

HAIL, 

CALIFORNIA! 



MARY E OLIVER 



















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COPYRIGHT DEPuKiE 























HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

A College Story for Girls 


V 









“Are you all excited about the game? ”—Page 91 



HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

A College Story for Girls 


By 

MARY ETHEL OLIVER 

II 


/ 

/ 

ILLUSTRATED BY 
JOHN GOSS 



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BOSTON 


LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 

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Copyright, 1928, 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 
All Rights Reserved 
Hail, California ! 


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Printed in U. S. A. 


SEP 19 1928 ; 


©C1A1054591 




CONTENTS 


I. 

Off to College . 

• 

• 

9 

II. 

Beginnings . 

• 

• 

21 

III. 

Gamma Zeta 

• 

• 

34 

IV. 

Boom-mates 

• 

• 

52 

V. 

The “ Homesickest Freshman 


67 

VI. 

A Xew Friend . 

• 

• 

76 

VII. 

Big Game Week 

• 

• 

88 

VIII. 

Contrasts . 

• 

• 

100 

IX. 

Marceil’s California Christmas 

108 

X. 

A Visit to Viola 

• 

• 

120 

XI. 

Spring Term 

• 

• 

132 

XII. 

In Quest of Adventure 

• 

• 

146 

XIII. 

Partheneia 

• 

• 

158 

XIV. 

A Day of Triumphs . 

• 

• 

166 

XV. 

A Problem . 

• 

• 

176 

XVI. 

Gingham and Velvet . 

• 

• 

188 

XVII. 

The End of Freshman Year 

• 

203 

XVIII. 

Jolly Sophomores 

• 

• 

212 

XIX. 

Days That Fly . 

• 

• 

225 

XX. 

Winter Frolics . 

• 

• 

237 

XXL 

Team-Work 

• 

• 

250 


5 


6 CONTENTS 

XXII. Ted . 

XXIII. Beaux ! 

XXIV. Senior Days 
XXV. Cap and Gown . 


. 266 
. 271 
. 281 
. 293 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Are you all excited about the 

game?” (Page 91) . . Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

Her own Snow Queen .... 84 

“You look as though you’d just stepped 

out of a Watteau painting ” . . 126 

The improvement was already perceptible . 200 


7 












HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


CHAPTER I 

OFF TO COLLEGE 

u My last gallop on dear old Snow Queen for— 
goodness knows how long! ” sighed Florence 
Essex, stopping to encircle the white head with 
her arms before she mounted. 

“ Don’t stay long,” cautioned her mother, from 
the doorway. u Remember, to-day is our last 
chance to do any shopping. Your trunk really 
should be packed and on its way, right now.” 

“ I’ll be back soon,” Florence called, waving 
good-by as the beautiful white horse bore her off. 

The familiar road, the leafy coolness of the 
woods, the clear, rippling creek in the ravine— 
Florence had always loved them all, and now she 
was saying good-by. Somehow, the prospect of 
college, which had shone so brightly all this busy 
summer, began to lose its luster just then. Flor¬ 
ence loved her home, the rose-bowered Spanish 
cottage set in the wooded foothills of Santa Bar¬ 
bara. She idolized her beautiful mother and the 


io HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

father whose professional dignity was so sadly 
upset, whenever she entered the room with her 
gay banter and affectionate teasing. And dear 
“ big brother ” Jim was a favorite playmate and 
comrade. It was going to be hard—hard to leave 
them all, even for the privilege of entering the 
university which was Alma Mater to them. 

“Queenie, I’m getting homesick before I’ve 
even gone. Isn’t that ridiculous?” She loos¬ 
ened the rein and set herself to the enjoyment of 
her gallop. 

After a short ten minutes, she turned reluc¬ 
tantly and allowed her mount to walk leisurely 
toward home. There was shopping to think of 
now; but even the lure of that favorite pastime 
failed to bring an expression of cheerfulness to 
the girl’s face; and when Pedro, the big collie, 
came dashing up the road to meet her, Florence 
was almost ready to cry. Her mother was in 
the garden waiting, and the girl forced a happy 
smile. After all, it was nice to be going to col¬ 
lege, and she had enjoyed her gallop. 

“I’ll be ready in a jiffy, Mother,” she said, 
alighting quickly. “Jim will put Snow Queen 
away, and give her a cool bath,” she added, eye¬ 
ing her brother wheedlingly. 


OFF TO COLLEGE 


ii 


“Huh—I thought Snow Queen was strictly 
your charge! ” Jim demurred, but his reluctance 
was so obviously feigned that Florence’s plead¬ 
ing, “ Mother and I have to hurry down-town,” 
was quite unnecessary, and she ran toward the 
house while Jim led the horse away. 

In ten minutes, she came out, cool and fresh in 
a soft, green voile that brought out the coppery 
glints in her curls. 

“ Shall I drive, Mother? ” she asked, hastily 
sliding open all the coach windows. 

“ I’d rather drive down. You may drive 
back,” Mrs. Essex answered, taking her place at 
the wheel, with a sigh. She, too, was trying to 
force her thoughts away from the approaching 
separation. 

In spite of the increasing heat, they both en¬ 
joyed this last shopping tour. What girl or 
woman does not like to indulge in the purchase 
of pretty things? It took Florence all the morn¬ 
ing to decide what to buy with the merchandise 
order that Jim had given her for her birthday, 
but when she saw the peacock-blue kimono of 
silk crepe, with the daintiest of pink and white 
blossoms sprayed over it, she knew that noth¬ 
ing else would do. Her mother had intended 


12 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


that a pretty kimono should be a part of the 
new wardrobe, but she had expected that Flor¬ 
ence would be satisfied with a less expensive one. 

“ It’s Jim’s birthday present, though! ” pleaded 
Florence. “ Mother, he told me to go and buy 
something frivolous.” 

Mrs. Essex surrendered at last, and Florence 
insisted on stopping to see the package wrapped 
and addressed before she could be enticed away 
to make other purchases. What a delight it was, 
selecting the delicately tinted ensembles from 
the piles of lacy, beribboned undergarments, 
choosing colored slips to be worn under the white 
lace dress in which she had graduated from the 
academy, picking up an “ extra pretty ” hand¬ 
kerchief or scarf here and there,—and greatest 
of all—deciding upon her first real evening dress! 

“ It must be more formal than the partified 
frocks you have been wearing for best,” Mrs. 
Essex said, almost regretfully. u Gamma Zeta 
always wears full dress for formal teas and 
dances.” 

The salesgirl overheard her, and immediately 
opened a case near at hand. “ This is just what 
you want,” she said blithely, holding up a ruffiy 
chiffon of pale green, which shaded gradually 


OFF TO COLLEGE 


13 

into a darker hue in the last cascade of frills. 
“ It’s girlish, and yet formal enough for any oc¬ 
casion.” 

Florence tried on the little sleeveless frock, 
and decided that people were right when they 
told her that green was one of her best colors. 

The salesgirl tucked, and pulled, and straight¬ 
ened, here and there, all the while eulogizing her 
customer’s fair skin, hazel eyes, and abundant 
golden hair. Florence tried on other gowns— 
simple taffetas, heavy crepes, fluffy georgettes of 
various shades, but finally decided that the 
talkative clerk really had shown taste and judg¬ 
ment when she had brought out the green, ruffled 
chiffon. The shoppers saw it packed and ad¬ 
dressed and, gathering up the smaller packages, 
hurried out to the machine. 

“ These things are so lovely just to look at,” 
Florence sighed. “It seems a shame to muss 
them up wearing them.” 

“ The green dress looks lovelier on than off,” 
laughed her mother. “I’ll let you have my 
emerald ring to wear with it—if you’re a very 
good child.” 

“Oh, you darling Mother! I’ll be positively 
angelic, from this moment.” 


i 4 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

“ Until the next,” Mrs. Essex teased. 

The parcels from the store arrived that after¬ 
noon, and before the day was over, Florence’s 
trunk was ready for shipment. 

u I’ll carry the fluffiest things in my suitcase,” 
she decided. “ Isn’t it a shame to have to crush 
them with packing? Oh, such pretties! Mother, 
I’m an awfully lucky girl.” 

“ You are a great deal more fortunate than 
many of the girls you’ll meet in Berkeley,” Mrs. 
Essex answered solemnly. 

“ I know it. Think! I don’t even have to hunt 
for a room. Sometimes, though, I wish that I 
had no claim on Gamma Zeta, Mother. It would 
be such fun to be i rushed ’ in the usual way, in¬ 
stead of being wished on a sorority just because 
my mother happened to be a member.” 

Mrs. Essex smiled. “ You vain little thing! 
You would like to see how many sororities would 
rush you, wouldn’t you? ” but she added seri¬ 
ously, “ You mustn’t go there with the idea that 
you are being c wished on ’ them. You had your 
share of rushing when you stopped at the house 
with me, last spring. It was quite evident that 
the girls thought they could stand having you 
about.” 


OFF TO COLLEGE 




“ Just the same, it would be much more flat¬ 
tering to be selected from the multitude, as you 
were. I guess I am a vain little thing. How- 
somever, it’s nice to feel that I won’t be a lost, 
lonesome Freshman when I get to Berkeley.” 

“ For which I’m duly thankful, too,” her 
mother added. “ I wouldn’t pack those dresses 
until the last minute, if I were you,” she broke 
off. 

“But do you think I’ll have time to-morrow? 
We’ll have to start rather early.” 

“I’ll attend to them while you’re dressing. 
Are you still sure that you would rather drive 
to Los Angeles and go by boat, than take the 
train to Berkeley from here? ” 

“ Sure as ever,” Florence answered emphatic¬ 
ally. “ I haven’t had a peek at Los Angeles for 
a long, long time; and besides, the train is so 
stuffy, these hot days.” 

“ All right. It will be a novel experience for 
you. You’ve never traveled on anything bigger 
than a ferry-boat, have you? ” 

“ No, never had a fair chance to get seasick,” 
Florence laughed.—“Now I think everything is 
in, except the dresses.” 

“ Here comes the man for your trunk! ” Jim 


16 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

called, from tlie entry. “ Do you want him to 
take this box of books, too?” 

“Yes,” Florence answered, and ran down to 
superintend the first definite reminder of de¬ 
parture. 

By eight o’clock the next morning, Florence 
and her baggage were tucked in the back seat of 
the machine with her mother, while Jim and Dr. 
Essex occupied the front. She gave a last, tear¬ 
ful glance about the shaded lawn and the dear 
home, under its garland of late roses,—at beau¬ 
tiful Snow Queen, thrusting her head out of the 
stable window to give her loved mistress a part¬ 
ing neigh, at Pedro, barking and whining a pro¬ 
test at being left behind. She waved to Minna, 
the old Indian woman who was their only ser¬ 
vant. When the machine slid rapidly out into 
the highway, she strained her eyes to take in a 
last glimpse of the home which had sheltered her 
ever since the days of her first, wavering foot¬ 
steps. 

Her mother slipped an arm about her. “ You 
will be back again in a few months, dear. And 
time flies, when you are at college.” 

Florence laid her head on her mother’s shoul- 


OFF TO COLLEGE 


17 


der. Just then, she did not care whether or not 
she ever saw college. But it was impossible to 
be morose long, during that memorable trip along 
the shore of the sparkling Pacific, and up over 
the foothills toward Los Angeles. 

They had a late lunch in the southern city, and 
had barely time for a drive about town before 
they must make the short run to San Pedro and 
put Florence aboard the boat. There were flow¬ 
ers and magazines in her stateroom already, 
boxes of candy, and notes from girls whom she 
had known at the academy. 

“ IPs too bad that you are the only one of your 
class going up to U. C.,” Jim commented. “ It 
would be more fun to go in a crowd.” 

“ There is one girl, Sadie Erna; but I never 
knew her very well. Perhaps I ? ll meet her, 
though I don’t imagine she is going by boat.” 

She looked about the groups on the deck, but 
recognized no one until Jim suddenly caught her 
arm. 

“ Say, there’s Bob Arclift and his cousin. They 
look as though they are bound for college, too.” 
He piloted Florence to the couple who were 
standing apart from the groups of students and 
other passengers. 


18 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

“Are you a Freshman, too, Florence Essex? 
Oh, isn’t that great! ” Betty Arclift exclaimed, 
as soon as the greetings were over. “ My cousin 
is a Sophomore, and he’s doing his best to scare 
me into staying at home.” 

“Nothing of the sort;—just shattering as 
many as I can of your Freshman illusions. 
That’s the duty of a Sophomore,” Bobert pro¬ 
tested solemnly. 

“ I’ve heard that the favorite pastime of Sopho¬ 
mores is exterminating unruly Freshmen,” Flor¬ 
ence laughed. 

“ So ’tis,” Robert agreed, assuming as stern 
an expression as his boyish countenance would 
permit. “ Be sure you heed the various warn¬ 
ings posted about the campus.” 

“Isn’t he dreadful?” Betty sighed, although 
she was obviously enjoying the teasing of her 
mischievous cousin. “ I’m so glad that you’re a 
Freshman, too, Florence.” 

Jim pinched his sister’s ear playfully, and 
whispered, “Now smile your hardest,” as the 
warning whistle blew, and he led her back to the 
group waiting to bid her good-by. There were 
tears mixed with their last smiles and embraces, 
hurried promises, and admonitions; and then her 


OFF TO COLLEGE 


19 

three loved ones hastened off the boat and stood 
waving while the great ship cleared its moorings 
and slipped out into the harbor. 

It was the first time that Florence had ever 
left home alone. When the land began to melt 
away into the mists, she fled to her stateroom, 
and would not stir out of it until Betty, whose 
pleading brown eyes knew how to beg so irre¬ 
sistibly, came to take her to the dining-saloon. 

Florence had always liked the Arclifts. Both 
had the same attractive brown eyes and sleek, 
dark hair; both, the same gay youthfulness of 
manner and expression. One would have thought 
them brother and sister; the way in which Robert 
teased and chaffed his young cousin reminded 
Florence of her own brother. 

“ Can you imagine that little bit of a thing 
running a tractor?” he asked, when the three 
were walking up and down the deck together, 
after dinner. “ She’s determined to be a lady 
agriculturist, or rancherette, or whatever you 
call it.” 

“ You won’t have to imagine it very long. Some 
day you’ll see how well I can manage a tractor, 
or a cow or pig, or anything else that grows on a 
ranch,” Betty retorted. 


20 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

u Ho, ho! ” laughed Robert. u What kind of 
plant do tractors grow on? ” 

“ I was referring to the cow and pig, when I 
said 6 anything else that grows on a ranch/ ” 
Betty returned saucily, with a shake of her dark, 
bobbed locks. 

u I wish / could decide what I want to be,” 
Florence said. “ I haven’t a ghost of idea what 
I’m going to do with a college education.” 

“ Plenty of time to think about that,” Robert 
advised. “ Don’t let Betty’s apparent decisive¬ 
ness make you envious. She thinks that she is 
going to collect prize specimens of cows and 
pigs, but she’ll be much more likely to collect 
Haviland china to put in a tea-shop where over¬ 
worked co-eds may congregate.” 

Florence laughed. It was easier to imagine 
Betty handling Haviland china than tending live¬ 
stock, but there was a determined lift to her 
rounded chin that made one wonder if she would 
easily change her mind, once she had it made up. 

They walked about the deck until all three 
were tired enough to seek their staterooms, and 
Florence bade her friends good-night, smiling 
gratefully for the hours of cheery companionship. 


CHAPTER II 


BEGINNINGS 

Florence was not disappointed at lier failure 
to experience that bane of the ocean traveler— 
seasickness. She rose next morning with a keen 
appetite for breakfast, and went out on deck to 
pass a half-hour watching the rocky shore-line 
rise out of the mists. Betty and Robert joined 
her shortly and, at the first clang of the break¬ 
fast gong, they turned toward the dining-room, 
to eat together while they watched other pas¬ 
sengers, and listened to student chatter anent 
courses and campus affairs. 

“ IPs beginning to be 6 collegy’ already,” Flor¬ 
ence thrilled. “ Are you as impatient as I, I 
wonder, Betty Arclift? ” 

“ Every bit, if not more so,” Betty answered. 
“You know, I ? ve arrived in Berkeley already.” 

At Florence’s look of surprise and perplexity, 
Robert took it upon himself to explain. “ She 
makes herself about as clear as mud, doesn’t she? 
What the young lady means to say is that we 
were in Berkeley a week ago, on our way south. 


21 


22 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

We live up in the mountains now, you see—the 
Sierras.” 

“ Oh! Then your home isn’t in Los Angeles? ” 

“ Not any more. We were just visiting rela¬ 
tives for a few days.” 

“ We’ve moved up to Snow City,” added Betty. 
“Ever been there? It’s a quaint little mining 
town with a history like a wild-west story.” 

“And does it snow there?” 

“ ’Deed it does. Why, one year, it snowed in 
May, after all the fruit-trees were in bloom.” 

“ What a shame! And yet, it must have been 
beautiful, with all the pink and white blossom 
faces peeping out from under the snow.” 

“Now, don’t get poetical,” cautioned Robert. 
“ Betty associates fruit blossoms only with crops, 
I assure you.” 

Betty gave him a glance that sent him into an 
attitude of defense, and she turned toward Flor¬ 
ence to effect an exchange of invitations for visits 
in the future. 

Some time before the ship was to dock, they 
hastened to their staterooms to pack, that they 
might be on deck in time to enjoy their entrance 
to the Golden Gate. Ruffled, green water stretch¬ 
ing away on one side to rugged mountain peaks, 


BEGINNINGS 


23 

and on the other to a line of cliffs dotted with 
beautiful homes and the dense woods of the Pre¬ 
sidio, soaring sea-gulls balancing themselves 
gracefully in the breeze,—it was an unforgettable 
picture, and needed only that glance toward the 
mainland, where the white bell-tower of their 
university shone, to make it perfect. 

As the Harvard rounded the bend and turned 
into the bay toward its dock, there was a general 
awakening to the practical business of landing. 

“ Had you planned on going through to Berke¬ 
ley? ” Betty asked, when they met on the deck 
again, after having attended to suitcases and 
other baggage. “ Bob and I are going to run up 
Market Street to do some shopping. Do you want 
to check your suitcase and come along? Or are 
you too tired ?” 

u I’d love to,” agreed Florence gratefully, “ if 
there is no one to meet me.” 

They glanced out over the crowd as they 
walked ashore. Two girls separated from the 
rest and hurried toward Florence. One she rec¬ 
ognized as Jerry Fay, a Gamma Zeta Sophomore 
who was from Missouri, “ actually and figura¬ 
tively,” as she liked to state it herself. The other 
was a stranger. 


24 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


There was a babel of greeting and introduc¬ 
tion, amid which Betty and her cousin slipped 
away before Florence could protest. 

“ Marceil Adams is what we call a ‘ Christmas 
Freshman,’ ” explained Jerry, “ which means she 
entered college in January, has the same nu¬ 
merals as I, but receives her diploma at the same 
time as you do. She came all the way from Bos¬ 
ton last winter to get thawed out, though, of 
course, she won’t admit it.” 

“ And what about Middle West people coming 
to California to get thawed out? ” retorted Mar¬ 
ceil. “ Anyhow, we don’t have to have a fire in 
the middle of August, as you do in San Fran¬ 
cisco.” 

“ Only sometimes,” defended Florence. 

Jerry smiled with satisfaction. “ Go to it, 
children. I knew that it wouldn’t take much to 
start an Easterner and a native daughter on the 
age-old battle.” 

“ You deliberately led us into it, you rogue,” 
laughed Marceil, and refused to be led any fur¬ 
ther. 

“ I’m not worrying,” Jerry remarked, as they 
went aboard a trans-bay ferry. “I can foresee 
that you are going to keep warm arguing about 


BEGINNINGS 


25 


the superiority of New England apples, while 
Florence will make it her business to see you, 
every rainy day, so that she can assure you how 
‘ unusual ’ the weather is.” 

The representatives of East and West smiled 
at Jerry’s nonsense, and proceeded to pave the 
way for the prophesied battles with the begin¬ 
ning of a sound friendship. 

u You entered the University last January? ” 
Florence asked. “ Then, why didn’t I meet you 
when I was here in May? ” 

“ I was on my way home then,” explained Mar- 
ceil. 

“ Yes, she was the homesickest Freshman in 
the whole United States,” Jerry added. “ I don’t 
believe she is over it yet; in fact, I marvel that 
she came back to us at all. Just you wait, Flor¬ 
ence Essex. When she gets a spell of longing for 
autumn leaves or icicles, you’ll have the time of 
your life defending the glory of the Golden 
State.” 

“ Don’t mind her. She’s just trying to get us 
started again,” smiled Marceil calmly. 

When they finally stepped off the Berkeley car 
and walked toward the Gamma Zeta House, Col¬ 
lege Avenue was thronging with student life, and 


26 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

the new Freshman exulted in the fact that, this 
time, she was not merely an observer, but “ a part 
of the play ” herself. With a new sense of pos¬ 
session, she glanced toward the gardens and 
white buildings of the campus. 

The Gamma Zeta House was a large, brown- 
shingled one, with a spacious lawn and clamber¬ 
ing vines that reminded her of home. Mrs. Pres¬ 
ton, the house-mother, was at the door to greet 
Florence and take her to her room. 

“Not many of the girls have come yet,” ex¬ 
plained Mother Preston, slipping an arm about 
her new charge as they went upstairs together. 
“ Old students do not register until Monday, you 
know; but there are three here—Jerry and Mar- 
ceil, who came early for the excitement of Fresh¬ 
man registration, and one Senior, who is an Ad¬ 
visor.” 

“And this is my very own room?” enthused 
Florence, as they entered a sunny chamber on 
the second floor. 

“ Yes, but you will probably share it with an¬ 
other Freshman who will come in later. Now, 
you have some time before dinner to rest or get 
a little settled. Come down when you hear the 
campanile chimes.” With a friendly smile, Mrs. 



BEGINNINGS 


27 

Preston left the girl to her newly acquired do¬ 
main. 

Florence looked about the room, a not over¬ 
large one, furnished simply in cream color—two 
dressers, a small bed, a study-table in front of 
each of the two windows, three chairs,—that was 
all. The windows were daintily curtained, but 
they were devoid of drapes, and the room was 
equally destitute of rugs, pictures, and all the 
other knickknacks that make it a girl’s home. 
But Florence’s momentary disappointment was 
lost in her contemplation of the fun it would be 
to plan and arrange the needed rugs, pictures, 
and other homey details. 

“ If I have a room-mate, it will be easier,” she 
reflected, setting to work upon her suitcase. 

She hung the precious new dresses in the 
closet, and, when Jerry and Marceil came in to 
help, it was an easy matter to have everything 
put away before their stream of chatter was in¬ 
terrupted by the sudden pealing of the chimes, 
celebrating the sunset hour with a burst of bell 
music. 

To the accompaniment of “ I Love You, Cali¬ 
fornia,” the three went downstairs to dinner, dur¬ 
ing which Jerry kept up a rapid-fire of nonsense 


28 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

that made it impossible to think of homesickness, 
even amid the eery emptiness of the big house. 

Florence was the first down to breakfast the 
next morning, and had her trunk half unpacked 
before Jerry poked her head inside her door to 
ask: 

“Would any little Frosh care to have the 
guidance of a venerable Sophomore, this morn¬ 
ing?” 

“ Little Frosh,Mrs. Preston protested. 
“ Florence outranks you by at least two inches.” 

“ Yes, but what I lack in height, I make up in 
other ways. Would the tiny Freshman like to go 
over to the campus, this morning? ” 

Florence recalled the lonesomeness of the 
empty rooms, and the fact that Ruth Lincoln had 
advised her to register early, and so she eagerly 
consented. 

“You don’t need a hat,” Geraldine advised. 
“Wear your natural halo; it’s becoming to a 
Freshman. Marss, are you coming, too? ” 

“ Sorry,” came in a muffled voice from Mar- 
ceil’s room, “ but if I don’t get some order out of 
this chaos, we’ll have to sleep on the roof, to¬ 
night.” 


BEGINNINGS 


29 


“ Leave my part; FU do it after lunch,” Jerry 
called back, as she and Florence left the house. 

They were soon treading the paths of the cam¬ 
pus, passing under groves of tall eucalyptus, 
through which the white academic buildings glis¬ 
tened in the sun. Florence could not repress a 
gasp of delight. 

“ Pray don’t look so inspired and overjoyed,” 
laughed Jerry. “ You must appear quite bored 
and indifferent, if you don’t want people to know 
that you’re a Freshman.” 

“ But I do want people to know that I’m a 
Freshman. I’m sure I don’t want any numerals 
but 19—!” 

Jerry was promptly subdued. “ Terrible,” she 
sighed, “ allowing a Freshman to come back at 
me that way, the very first day.” 

As they neared the library, a pretty girl in 
cap and gown stood, for a moment, framed in the 
classic doorway. To the enthusiastic newcomer, 
she was the symbol of the wonderful life that 
stretched before her. Here was college at last! 

Jerry escorted Florence to a grove where 
groups of laughing, talking youths and maidens 
crowded around the tables and benches, or stood 
in line before the registration desks. Senior 


30 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


girls in academic gowns flitted about, helping 
new students through the maze of registration. 

“Not many E’s signing up now,” Jerry ob¬ 
served, with a sigh of satisfaction. They took 
their places in line, and, before she could realize 
it, Florence held in her hand the little blue card 
which definitely stated that she was a student in 
the University of California. 

“ Your Graduate Advisor is Miss Kane,” com¬ 
mented Jerry, reading over her shoulder. 
“ Good! Ruth Lincoln is a Senior Advisor under 
her. There she is now! ” 

Ruth Lincoln wore her cap and gown well. 
She was tall, with a quiet dignity that befitted 
the sombre, collegiate garb; but her smile of 
recognition immediately dismissed the awe with 
which Florence regarded this new vision of the 
Gamma Zeta house-president. 

“ Your Senior Guardian Angel,” added Jerry, 
when, her schedule having been made out by 
Miss Kane, Florence was officially put under 
Ruth’s charge. 

“And don’t let any little Sophomore usurp 
my privileges,” cautioned Ruth, but the warn¬ 
ing was a smiling one. 

“ I’ll leave her to your tender mercy, right 


BEGINNINGS 


3i 


now, Highness,” mocked Jerry. “ I must go to 
inform Professor Marver that he is to have the 
honor of my presence in his short-story class. 
You see, there are about three hundred trying to 
enroll in that class, and I’ve made up my mind 
to be one of the chosen thirty,” she explained, 
and hurried away. 

“ The next thing to do is to get your medical 
appointment,” Ruth decided, “and the line is 
so long! ” 

“ I won’t mind waiting,” Florence assured her. 
“ There are so many things to watch.” 

Everywhere, people were exchanging ecstatic 
greetings, or sitting absorbed in bulletins and 
circulars. The air was filled with chatter about 
hours and units, lectures and professors, vacation 
news and banter. 

“ Ruth Lincoln, in a cap and gown! ” a pass¬ 
ing girl exclaimed. “Behold her awesome dig¬ 
nity ! ” 

Ruth smiled. “Don’t humble me before my 
Freshman. I know she thinks I’ve worn one all 
my life.” 

“Well, honestly,” Florence laughingly con¬ 
fessed, “ it never occurred to me that you haven’t 
always been a stately Senior. 


32 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

“ I think the Freshman hats are prettiest,” she 
remarked, when a contingent of Freshmen boys, 
all wearing gold-banded blue hats, passed by. 
“ Are those frightful green caps the Sopho¬ 
mores’? ” 

“ Sh-h-h,” warned Ruth. “ One of them might 
hear you.” 

“ Well, they are frightful,” persisted Florence. 
“ The Senior sombreros are pretty, though. What 
do the Juniors wear?” 

“ They have had no distinctive head-dress since 
the unwieldy i plugs’ were discarded, years ago,” 
Ruth explained. “Look, Florence, don’t you 
think you ought to do something to help your 
suffering classmates?” Ruth indicated a group 
near by. 

A Freshman boy had climbed a eucalyptus 
tree, and, clinging desperately to its slippery 
trunk, was being compelled to sing several verses 
of “ The Jolly Sophomore.” 

“And here.” Ruth attracted Flo’s attention 
to a touching proposal scene, in which the lady 
fair was suspiciously masculine in appearance, 
despite the improvised ruffles. Florence noted 
that her classmates seemed to be enjoying the sit¬ 
uation as much as their tormentors, and she 


BEGINNINGS 


33 

could laugh with the rest at their ridiculous an¬ 
tics. 

It was mid-afternoon before the many details 
of registration were attended to, and Jerry ap¬ 
peared from the direction of Wheeler Hall. 
“ Now that the worst is over, can you stand a 
Gamma Zeta Special? ” she inquired. 

Ruth excused herself. “I have some other 
Freshmen to look after,” she said, “ so I ? ll let you 
take Florence down-town for refreshments., A 
Gamma Zeta Special is a necessary part of her 
education, too. Run along.” 

When the girls returned to the campus again, 
the chairs and tables were deserted, and only the 
numerous leaflets, flying about, testified to the 
previous busyness of the day. Florence heaved 
a happy, tired sigh. 

“ Well, your first day at college is over,” said 
Jerry. “ Sorry or glad? ” 

u Both,” Florence answered. “ Sorry—’cause 

it has been a most wonderful day, and glad-” 

“ Because the days to come are going to be 
even more wonderful,” Jerry finished for her. 



CHAPTER III 


GAMMA ZETA 

The upstairs rooms of the house did not re¬ 
main quiet for long. By Monday, the rest of the 
girls had arrived, and there was the usual fall 
program of rapturous greetings, punctuated by 
hammers, falling trunk-lids, and a thousand in¬ 
coherent exclamations and remarks. Like a great 
many other Freshmen, Florence found her head 
awhirl with the excitement of rushing about to 
interviews and appointments, of meeting many 
new people. After the first lonesome evenings at 
the house, she had not a minute to think of being 
homesick, and wrote home long, cheery letters 
about her new life and friends. 

It was fascinating, this membership in a great 
university, mingling with thousands of students 
who represented every degree of society, as well 
as every civilized country in the world. When¬ 
ever she had a spare moment, she liked to sit on 
the steps of the library and watch the streams of 
students pouring in and out,—happy, carefree 
youths and girls like herself, businesslike young 

34 


GAMMA ZETA 


35 

men and women who came and went with anxious 
glances toward the campanile clock, dark-eyed 
Europeans who seemed to take their studies with 
the utmost seriousness, almond-eyed sons and 
daughters of China and Japan, and even an oc¬ 
casional turbaned intellectual from far-away In¬ 
dia. Some, poor and shabby, with worried, 
hunted expressions; some self-conscious, un¬ 
poised, their very carriage an apology to the 
world; some arrogant, disdainful of their asso¬ 
ciates, others obviously seeking the favor of the 
u elect ” ; some listlessly indifferent to their sur¬ 
roundings, others bristling with enthusiastic ef¬ 
ficiency; many, like the Freshman who watched 
them, just average. Here and there, a passing in¬ 
dividual stood out from the rest,—the little blind 
girl whose face was the incarnation of patience 
and sweetness, the young nobleman in military 
uniform, the tall, aristocratic girl with the blue- 
black hair, who always dressed in harmony with 
the car she was driving, the stocky Freshman 
who went through the crowd as though he were 
making a centre rush. It was a little world in 
itself, with its share of joy and sorrow, humor 
and tragedy. 

On this particular day, Florence was enjoying 


36 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

a half-hour’s respite between enrollment periods, 
and, though she watched because the study of 
people was one of her favorite pastimes, she was 
looking for two definite individuals. Not since 
she had said good-by at the ferry, had she met the 
Arclifts. They had neglected to exchange ad¬ 
dresses. The files w T ould not be open to the pub¬ 
lic for, possibly, a fortnight. 

In every class, Florence had watched and lis- 

* 

tened for signs of her two friends, but, so far, 
she had encountered neither. She wanted to see 
Betty, most especially. The moment that the 
Gamma Zeta girls had given her permission to 
invite any Freshmen girls whom she especially 
cared for, as her tea-guests, she had thought of 
Betty. They had formed a fast friendship, dat¬ 
ing from that memorable summer in the Yo- 
semite. Florence wanted her sorority sisters to 
know and approve of Betty. They were giving 
her an opportunity practically to choose her 
room-mate, despite the fact that she could not 
definitely suggest a name for membership, and 
she loved them for it. She had thought of Betty, 
and resolved to have her as her special guest at 
tea, and at other less formal occasions in which 
the Gamma Zeta girls might have an opportunity 


GAMMA ZETA 


37 

to know her. And now—here she was without an 
idea how to find Betty. The thought that some 
other sorority might claim her, before she could 
be found, worried Florence, and made her all the 
more desirous of getting in touch with the lost 
friend. She was certain that there was no one 
else she would rather have. 

The campus clock chimed three and, with a 
sigh of disappointment, Florence rose to go to 
her history class in Wheeler Auditorium. A lit¬ 
tle, round-shouldered figure in a faded gingham 
dress attracted her attention. There was some¬ 
thing familiar about the stoop of those thin shoul¬ 
ders, and the mousy color of the untidy hair. 
Florence frowned, and then brightened. Of 
course! It was Sadie Erna, the girl who had 
“ houseworked ” her way through Southern 
Academy. She wondered if Sadie were as aloof 
as ever, or if she would respond to friendliness, 
now that she was in a big university where one 
needed it so much. 

She followed Sadie down the corridor of the 
library and, smiling her sunniest, tapped her on 
the shoulder. a Hello, Sadie Erna! Fm glad to 
find that there is some one else from S. A. in all 
this vast throng.” 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


38 

It was hard to tell whether Sadie’s expression 
was vexation or extreme timidity. She edged 
away ever so slightly, and a ghost of a smile 
flitted across her countenance, but her face hard¬ 
ened suddenly and, with a glance at Florence’s 
tailored broadcloth, she shook off the hand on 
her arm and sped up the stairs without the barest 
murmur of greeting. 

Florence stood stock-still, angry at first, but 
she finally shrugged her shoulders and proceeded 
on her way to the auditorium in the next build¬ 
ing. She never had been able to understand 
Sadie Erna. Of course, the girl was poor and 
dreadfully overworked, but, to Florence, that was 
all the more reason why she needed the friendli¬ 
ness that she always rebuffed in that unapprecia¬ 
tive way. 

She was still thinking of Sadie Erna when the 
new enrollments were being taken in her History 
class, but, when the instructor began reading 
names, her mind immediately became absorbed 
in listening. The cards were not arranged alpha¬ 
betically, and so it was some minutes before the 
name she hoped to hear was read. 

“Elizabeth Arelift,” he called, and Florence 
turned her head, whirlwind fashion, from left to 


GAMMA ZETA 


39 

right, in an effort to ascertain from what part 
of the room that clear-voiced “ Present! ” came. 

Betty was seated up in hack, and near the 
door. She would probably be gone before Flor¬ 
ence could get to her. Fortunately, Professor 
Patton decided that a list of texts and references 
was more necessary than a lecture, that day, and 
so Florence’s lack of concentration did her no 
great harm. The class was dismissed twenty 
minutes early, and she hurried up the aisle until, 
wedged in by the crowd, she could move no fur¬ 
ther. There was no use in trying to struggle 
through; she could only edge her way with the 
crowd, biting her lips with impatience, and strug¬ 
gling with an absurd temptation to leave the 
aisle and climb over the backs of the seats toward 
the door. Naturally, she could not do that, and, 
by the time she had arrived in the lobby, there 
was no sign of Betty anywhere. Very much out 
of patience, Florence walked back to the library 
and whiled away an hour, looking for the books 
she needed. She was turning the cards in the 
index catalogue, when some one touched her 
arm. 

“ Hello, Flo Essex, how is everything going? ” 
Florence recognized the voice that she most 


4° 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


wanted to hear, just then, and looked up to be¬ 
stow an enthusiastic greeting upon Betty. 

“ Why, I’ve hunted everywhere for you! ” she 
exclaimed, after they had exchanged excited re¬ 
sumes of their first week in college. 

“ And I, for you,” smiled Betty, “ but I knew 
we must run across each other soon. Are you 
looking for that ‘Logic’?” she asked abruptly. 
u If you are, you may as well give up, and come 
for a walk with me, ’cause every one of those 
Freshmen at the delivery desk is after that same 
book.” 

u And I suppose that the last one went out long 
ago,” Florence sighed, pushing in the drawer. 
“ What am I to do? The 6 Co-op’s ’ new supply 
won’t be here for ten days or more.” 

“ Borrow mine,” Betty offered. “We can study 
together, until your copy comes.” 

“ Oh, thank you, Beth. That will take a load 
off my mind. I hate to get behind in things, right 
at the beginning.” 

“ We haven’t so much time to walk,” Betty re¬ 
marked, as they came out into the glow of late 
afternoon,“ but we can run up to Big C, if you’re 
not too tired.” 

“No. A walk is just what I need, right now; 


GAMMA ZETA 


4i 


and besides, the air is crystal clear. We ought 
not to miss such a chance at 1 ze world-famous 
view.’ ” 

“ Have you seen it from the campanile tower? ” 
Betty asked. 

“ The view? Yes. Went up at noontime yes¬ 
terday, and watched the chimesmaster play the 
big bells. It was interesting, but oh, my poor 
ears! ” 

u A case of ‘ Distance lends enchantment/ ” 
laughed Betty. 

They set off in the direction of the giant golden 
C which shone on the sun-bathed hills. Follow¬ 
ing the road up beyond the Greek Theatre, they 
turned off into the hard-packed trail leading up 
over the hill. In a surprisingly short time, they 
had passed through the scattered groves and 
come to the end of the crooked path. They stood 
at the foot of what now appeared to be a slab of 
yellow rock, curving up over the hillside. 

u How huge! ” exclaimed Florence. u Looking 
at it from here, one would never imagine that it 
had any relation to the alphabet.” 

“Another case of ‘Distance lends enchant¬ 
ment/ ” Betty observed. “ But turn around. 
Here is your view, looking its best for you.” 


42 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


They stood for a long time, looking down upon 
tile panorama of liquid gold and purple moun¬ 
tains, until tlie sun disappeared behind a glory 
of crimson cloud-banks, and gauzy, opalescent 
mists began to steal over the water. Their atten¬ 
tion was called to the campus spread out below 
them, by the chimes—now sweetened and mel¬ 
lowed by distance. 

“ They’re playing * The End of a Perfect Day/ ” 
sighed Betty, “ and—not that I wish to spoil the 
sentiment or anything—but I think that might 
be interpreted as a hint that we begin to wend 
our way homeward. Ten cents fine for being 
late to dinner, at my place! ” 

u That reminds me. I must get your address,” 
said Florence, as they hurried down the trail. 

Betty tore a leaf from her note-book, and wrote 
on it the address of one of the large boarding¬ 
houses. Florence was relieved. She began to 
hope that Betty was “ heart-whole and fancy 
free,” as far as sorority membership was con¬ 
cerned, but when they arrived on the campus 
again, and a group of Alpha girls greeted Betty 
affectionately, Florence knew that there was to 
be competition where little Miss Arclift was 
concerned. She tucked Betty’s brown hand 


GAMMA ZETA 


43 

under her elbow with a gesture of determina¬ 
tion. 

“ Can’t you come over at tea-time to-morrow? ” 
she pleaded. “ It’s very informal—come when 
you can, and stay as long as you want to. If 
you could stay to dinner, too, we might do Fri¬ 
day’s Logic together, afterwards.” 

All unconscious of the fact that she was being 
invited to the Gamma Zeta House, Betty eagerly 
consented. Florence left her, liking her better 
than ever, and hoping that the girls, who had 
given her the opportunity to introduce her friend, 
would approve of her choice. 

A number of Freshmen girls dropped in for 
informal tea, that Wednesday afternoon. Betty 
came, and was eagerly received when it became 
known that she had been “most ’specially in¬ 
vited ” by Florence. Every member of the House 
seemed anxious to meet her. 

“ Are you any relation to Robert Arclift? ” 
asked a Senior girl, upon being introduced. 

“He is my cousin,” nodded Betty. “And I 
just know that you are Ed Graham’s sister. He 
and Robert are-” 

“Perfect pals!” supplied Shirley Graham. 
“ I wonder why Ed didn’t tell me that Rob’s 



44 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

cousin was coming to college? ” she frowned, and 
then hastily changed the subject. 

Betty spent a pleasant, chatty half-hour with 
the girls and finally stole off to Florence’s room. 

u Most everybody has gone,” breathed Flor¬ 
ence, “ and so they won’t mind if I’m not down 
there right now. Remember you’re going to stay 
to dinner, Betty.” 

Betty nodded, but she seemed distracted and 
worried. Several times she started to say some¬ 
thing and checked herself. 

66 Whatever is on your mind?” laughed Flor¬ 
ence. “ Bid you sit on the Senior bench, or walk 
across the Sophomore lawn, or do anything 
equally dreadful? ” 

“N-o,” answered Betty, with only a fleeting 
smile. “ It’s something I want to know, but 
haven’t any right to ask you,” she added, a little 
wistfully. 

“Well, I’m seventeen. I don’t mind telling 
you,” Florence volunteered cheerfully. “ How 
old are you f ” 

Betty laughed outright. “The same,” she 
said, “ but—that was a poor guess.” 

“ You mean that that wasn’t what you wanted 
to ask me? ” Florence saw that Betty really did 


GAMMA ZETA 


45 

have something on her mind, and so she added, 
“Well, what is it then? Do go ahead and ask. 
It can’t do any harm.” 

“Are—are you pledged to Gamma Zeta?” 
Betty stammered at length. 

Florence’s face sobered. “Not yet,” she an¬ 
swered. “ I told the girls I’d rather wait until 
the regular time.” 

Betty did not seem especially cheered by this 
bit of news, but she felt that some explanation 
was necessary. 

“ The Alpha girls were telling me that you’ve 
been over there quite often. I had an idea that 
you were interested in that House. You see, I 
didn’t know that you were living here.” 

Florence remembered the way the Alpha girls 
had greeted Betty, and began to understand. 
The thought that Betty had been attracted to 
Alpha Epsilon because she believed her Yosemite 
friend to be interested in it, explained the timid 
question. Florence knew now that Betty was as 
desirous as she that they both “ go into ” the 
same sorority; consequently, she was more than 
ever determined to give Gamma Zeta the oppor¬ 
tunity to know Betty. If only she were in a po¬ 
sition to suggest her name for membership! But 


46 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

then, there was little doubt that Betty’s name 
would be mentioned by somebody. Shirley had 
seemed especially interested in her,—and Shirley 
was an influential Senior. Her thoughts came 
back to Betty and the Alphas. 

“ I have been over there a great deal,” she ex¬ 
plained. “ Some of the Academy girls I knew 
at school live there, and I’ve met most of the 
others, now.” She wrinkled her brow as a 
startling thought flashed in her mind. 

Surely they hadn’t been “ rushing ” her! Why, 
Sybil Marsh and the Quadro girls all knew that 
she was “ as good as pledged ” to Gamma Zeta! 
What would the girls who already looked upon 
her as a little sister say, if they suspected such a 
thing? The thought was disconcerting. Flor¬ 
ence felt that she must make herself clear regard¬ 
ing her own intentions, even if Betty had already 
committed herself to Alpha Epsilon. 

“ My mother was a Gamma Zeta, Betty,” she 
said earnestly, u and so I have never been partic¬ 
ularly interested in any other sorority, even those 
in which girls that I’ve known for a long time are 
members. Why, when I was born, Mother’s chap¬ 
ter sent a box of gifts addressed to ‘ our youngest 
sister.’ I have the card yet. So you see, I’ve 


GAMMA ZETA 


47 

always looked forward to being a Gamma Zeta, 
some day.” 

“ Of course,” Betty nodded. “ I didn’t know 
that. You see— (I may as well tell you) —I think 
that Alpha Epsilon is expecting to pledge me. I 
rather hoped that you might be pledged at the 
same time as I. But after all, it doesn’t make so 
very much difference if we’re not in the same 
House. We can see each other often, anyway.” 

Florence did her best to conceal her disappoint¬ 
ment. She forced a smile as she answered cheer¬ 
ily, “ Oh, yes. We’ll see each other lots,—espe¬ 
cially as we have three classes together. There 
will be intersorority affairs, too.” 

She tried to comfort herself with this reflec¬ 
tion that night, long after Betty had gone and 
she was alone in her room. But it did not satisfy 
her. She had imaginatively placed Betty, and 
no one else, at that other study-table. She had 
even dared to look forward to the confidential 
chats and plans that a girl shares only with a 
congenial room-mate. Florence did not like the 
task of reconstructing this picture—putting a 
stranger in the place she had reserved for Betty. 
She wondered who it would be—that tall, awk¬ 
ward girl whose very bigness made one feel con- 





48 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

spicuously small? A likable girl, with her frank¬ 
ness and irresistible drollery, but—somehow, 
Florence could not imagine Margaret Montague 
in the role of room-mate. What others? Surely, 
not that silly little Violet Chester with the af¬ 
fected lisp, and the gushing demonstrativeness! 
She was the only one that Florence actually dis¬ 
liked, among all the Freshmen she had met at 
the House. There were many that were likable 
enough, but none that she would prefer to Betty. 

The two girls managed to be together a great 
deal, Betty and her books often occupying the 
study-table that she must so soon give up to an¬ 
other. They strolled over the hills and up into 
the canyon during the twilight hour just after 
dinner; they took delightful jaunts of explora¬ 
tion about Berkeley and Oakland. 

Florence began to dread the day of the pledge 
breakfast. The upperclassmen had given her no 
hint as to the names of the Freshmen who had 
been invited. She had no idea who her room¬ 
mate was to be, and she could not become en¬ 
thusiastic over the prospect of meeting the girl 
who would at least partially usurp Betty’s place, 
in the strolls and other comradely pastimes that 
had brought them together every day. 


GAMMA ZETA 


49 


And so, on that Thursday morning to which 
she had been looking forward for so many years, 
Florence’s happiness was mixed with a feeling 
of disappointment, as she donned her white frock. 
She could not help thinking of Betty—who was 
probably on her way to the Alpha House now. 
Again and again, she wished that the girls had 
told her whom she might expect to have as her 
companions in this morning’s ceremony. Some 
one knocked at her door, just as she finished 
dressing. 

“ Come in! ” she called. u I’m ready. Have 
all the other girls come? ” 

Ruth Lincoln looked in, smiling. a Yes, every 
one we expected is here,” she said happily. “ I’ve 
sent the other girls to their rooms. May I send 
your prospective room-mate in here to take off 
her wraps?” 

Florence swallowed, but she managed to smile. 
She had not expected the dreaded moment to 
come so soon. How she hoped for some one she 
could like! 

There was some commotion and laughter out 
in the hall. Florence thought that Ruth would 
never return. She stood looking toward the hall 
with a frozen smile on her face, when the door 


5 ° 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

opened again, and a little, white-clad figure stood 
there, her face turned away as she answered some 
laughing remark from the outside. But Florence 
knew that dark head, that rounded profile. 

“ Betty! ” she almost screamed her delight. 
“Betty! You don’t mean to tell me that it’s 
really you! ” 

They rushed into each other’s arms as though 
they had just met, after years of separation. 

“Yes it’s me, I— moi! Flo, you don’t know 
how jealous I’ve been of—of myself, as it turns 
out. I was mortified, every time I thought of 
the room-mate who was going to share your after- 
dinner walks, and I hated the thought of hav¬ 
ing to get acquainted with one myself—a room¬ 
mate, I mean. Then the Gamma Zeta bid 
came! ” 

“ Your grammar’s dreadfully mixed,” Florence 
laughed, “but I know what you mean, you old 
dear. I’ve been doing some worrying, myself. 
Nobody gave me the slightest hint as to what 
girls received bids.” 

They laughed and talked and exclaimed hap¬ 
pily until some one opened the door and quieted 
them with a solemn “ Flush, the music is begin¬ 
ning. Hurry, and get into your places.” 


GAMMA ZETA 


“And what about the Alphas?” Florence 
whispered, before they slipped into the hall. 

“ They understood,” Betty answered. “ They 
knew that we two wanted to be together; and 
just as soon as they knew definitely that they 
couldn’t have you, they decided that they would 
have to let Gamma Zeta have me. They were 
fine about it, really.” 

Soft violin music floated up from downstairs, 
and Betty and Florence quietly took their places 
with the other three girls who were to pledge 
their fidelity to Gamma Zeta. 

An hour or so later, they walked to the campus 
together, and as Florence glanced from her 
pledge-pin to the duplicate on Betty’s blouse, she 
laughed away the bugaboo which had haunted 
her for days. Jolly, companionable Betty had 
routed the spectre of the uncongenial room-mate, 
and there was nothing left to mar the perfection 
of the beautiful memory that had become hers 
that morning. 


CHAPTER IV 


ROOM-MATES 

“My stars! What’s happening?” gasped 
Ruth, after an almost disastrous collision with 
a huge pile of hooks, behind which she discovered 
Florence. 

“ Moving day! See what a learned person you 
are importing from College Hall. All these be¬ 
long to Betty.” 

Ruth chuckled. “An obedient person, too! 
We told her to be moved in by to-night, and she 
is certainly taking it seriously.” 

Florence toiled up the stairs with the books, 
and Betty followed with a couple of suitcases. 
In a surprisingly short time, they had completed 

i 

the transformation of the bare little place into 
a cozy room, of which any co-ed might be proud. 
The peach-colored drapes and bedspread in which 
Florence had indulged, half fearing that the pro¬ 
spective room-mate would not care for them, 
blended beautifully with the warm-toned rugs 
and cushions which Betty had brought. A little 
book-shelf donated by Mrs. Preston, and some 

52 


ROOM-MATES 


S3 


tastefully arranged water-colors and prints, gave 
the last touch of artistic harmony to the little 
domain. 

“Even the blue-and-gold California pennant, 
and the sorority colors seem to belong here,” 
commented Mrs. Preston, after the other mem¬ 
bers of the house had stopped to admire. 

“ I’m afraid that these Freshmen have a pret¬ 
tier room than any other in the house,” worried 
Ruth Lincoln. “ Girls, we’ll all have to get busy 
and do ours over.” 

“Not right now,” objected Jerry Fay. “Me- 
thinks I hear the welcome song of the dinner 
gong. I’m interested in personally decorating 
a certain room downstairs for the next half-hour 
or so.” 

Florence and Betty could not resist the im¬ 
pulse to stay behind just a minute, to admire the 
result of their work. 

“ Those drapes are perfect, Flo—like sunshine 
coming in the window.” 

“ I like that sunny color, too,” admitted Flor¬ 
ence. “ And I’m so pleased that your things fit 
in well. One would think that those brown and 
gold rugs and your California cushions were 
made especially to match my drapes and prints.” 


54 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


“ Yes, a decidedly harmonious room.” It was 
Miriam Byrne who poked her head in to say 
this, “ and most decidedly harmonious room¬ 
mates, too,” she added, as, summoned by a second 
imperious call from the dinner gong, they hur¬ 
ried downstairs together. 

The new Freshmen were welcomed affection¬ 
ately. Besides Betty, there was Margaret Mon¬ 
tague, tall, and a bit awkward, but with an un¬ 
conscious drollery in her slow ways that made 
her quite likable. She was to room with Irish 
Miriam Byrne, whose quick wit was already prov¬ 
ing a match for Jerry’s, and whose bright auburn 
hair gave warning of the fiery spirit that lay 
under all her humor. 

“ With four Freshmen in the house, we ought 
to have efficient ’phone and doorbell service,” 
commented a Sophomore, wagging her head as 
a mode of impressing the newcomers with what 
was expected of them. 

“ Oh, you’re the one who is always getting her 
callers mixed,” Miriam exclaimed. “ If you like, 
I’ll keep track of the ones that ask for you, so 
that you won’t make any more than four engage¬ 
ments for any particular occasion.” 

The Sophomore blushingly subsided, and Jerry 


ROOM-MATES 


SS 

came to the rescue of her classmate. “ Better 
be careful, children,” she warned. “ Some day 
you may have to go through a mock initiation, 
you know. And then you’ll pay for every time 
you forget the majesty of a Sophomore.” 

“ Is Marceil a Sophomore? ” inquired Florence, 
suddenly remembering several occasions when 
she had most decidedly forgotten the majesty of 
that particular individual. 

“Not yet, but she will be in January,—and 
she wears the same numerals as I,” Jerry added 
loyally. 

“Which means she is sort of semi-majestic?” 
asked Florence, dimpling. 

“ That expresses it exactly,” Jerry nodded. 
“Next time you want to tease Marss about the 
* lahst ahftehnoon she spent at Hahvahd Uni- 
vehsity,’ you get my permission first.—By the 
w T ay, Marceil, when are you going to get that 
bottle of * stickum ’ for your hair? It’s a sin for 
a Bostonian to have such curly hair. Flo Essex 
is a native daughter, and, therefore, has a per¬ 
fect right to Pickfordian tresses, but you,—a 
history student from Boston—it’s terrible! And 
you ought to wear shell-rimmed glasses, too. 
Mother Preston, don’t you think they would make 


56 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

Marss look a lot more studious and—and—his¬ 
torical? ” 

“ If any charge of mine begins to look his¬ 
torical at eighteen, I’ll disown her,” laughed Mrs. 
Preston, rising from the table, thus signaling 
for dispersion and an end to Jerry’s teasing. 

“Are we going to have our walk to-night?” 
Betty asked, when she and Florence were again 
in their own room. 

“Why not? It is only seven o’clock. You 
aren’t overloaded with studying already, are 
you? ” 

“ No, but I thought that you might believe we 
ought not to take the time, now that regular 

work has begun.” 

\ 

“Nonsense! It will be much better for us to 
go out and get a breath of fresh air, than to sit 
down and study, right after dinner,” Florence 
argued, with an emphatic nod of her head. 

“ My sentiments, exactly,” rejoiced Betty. 
“We are harmonious room-mates, Flo.” 

They went out together, after having left word 
with Mrs. Preston. 

“ Speaking of harmonious room-mates,” began 
Florence, as they turned toward the canyon road, 
“ I wonder what made Miriam say that. Is she 


ROOM-MATES 


S 57 

afraid that her friendship with Margaret is going 
to be endangered by their living together?” 

“ Hm-m-mm, I don’t think so,” mused Betty. 
“ Most any one can get along with Margaret. 
She is too placid to be ruffled by anything.” 

“ Yes, and so irresistibly funny,” added Flor¬ 
ence. “ Still, they are very different—Margaret, 
so slow and calm, and Miriam, so quick and im¬ 
petuous.” 

Betty laughed. “ Perhaps that’s why they 
w r ere put together,—so that they would sort of 
balance each other.” 

They grew quiet under the spell of twilight 
in the grove, and turned to look down between 
tall trunks of eucalyptus at the campus, asparkle 
with lights, and at the glowing entrance of the 
library, darkened now and then by ingoing stu¬ 
dents. 

“ A gentle reminder that our seats and a vol¬ 
ume or two of history await us in the ‘ libe/ ” 
sighed Betty, but they walked with willing steps 
toward the melee of student life that they both 
loved. 

Stopping at the house only long enough to pro¬ 
cure their note-books, they joined the groups of 
students who were hurrying toward the campus. 


58 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

They found seats in the Reserved Book Room 
of the library, and settled themselves for an even¬ 
ing of study. Florence was soon absorbed in a 
chapter on prehistoric man, but Betty was rest¬ 
less. She fidgeted and stared about, drew pic¬ 
tures in her note-book. 

“ Beth dear, there’s an hour time-limit on that 
book. You’d better make the most of it,” Flor¬ 
ence hinted at last. 

Betty applied herself for about ten minutes, 
and then looked about the room again, nodded a 
greeting to two Alpha girls across the table, 
smiled at other friends who glanced up from ta¬ 
bles farther away. She sat very still for a min¬ 
ute or so, and Florence looked up to see her gaz¬ 
ing straight ahead, frowning. 

“ Flo, do you know that girl at this end of the 
second table away?” Betty whispered. “Every 
time I look at her she is staring at us with the 
queerest expression on her face! ” 

Florence immediately recognized the mousy 
hair and wan face that had characterized Sadie 
Erna as long as she had known her. Sadie’s eyes 
were downcast now. She was apparently ab¬ 
sorbed in her work. 

“ Yes, I know her,” whispered Florence. “ She 


ROOM-MATES 


59 


graduated from the Academy in my class, though 
she never mingled with us much. What do you 
mean by ‘ a queer expression ’ ? ” she ended. 

“ Oh—I don’t know. She’d look at you and 
then at me, as though she had some grudge 
against us. It must be you, Flo,” Betty giggled. 
“ I don’t remember ever having seen her before. 
Whatever did you do to her? ” 

Florence w T as startled. “ A grudge against me! 
She can’t have! Why, she used to rather like me, 
whenever we did come in contact with each other 
at school. She was always terribly shy and re¬ 
served. Her outside work kept her well oc¬ 
cupied; but, once in a while, we’d meet and ex- 
change a few words. I hardly think she has any 
grudge against me.” 

“ Maybe I imagined it,” said Betty. “ Per¬ 
haps it was a math, problem that made her ap¬ 
pear so pouty. Heavens, look at the time! And 
I’m not half-way through this chapter.” 

Florence was the restless one during the next 
fifteen minutes. She often glanced toward Sadie 
Erna, but the girl did not raise her eyes. Even 
when she rose to go, she refrained from looking 
in Florence’s direction, but Florence was not sur¬ 
prised. She had seen Sadie go out of her way to 


60 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

avoid lier before, and, remembering tbeir first 
meeting on the campus, she thought she under¬ 
stood. Florence resented the idea that Sadie 

\ 

thought her patronizing. To her, condescension 
■was a form of snobbery. She hated both, and it 
bothered her to think that any one might inter¬ 
pret her interest in Sadie Erna as such, espe¬ 
cially that Sadie herself should do so. It was 
obvious that, at a great university where they 
seldom saw each other, their paths must rapidly 
diverge; but Florence saw no reason why their 
casual friendliness should be destroyed. She re¬ 
called that she had never seen Sadie in company 
with any one else—always alone, always hurry¬ 
ing, as if fleeing from something she dreaded. 

When the warning bell rang at five minutes of 
ten, Florence was still absorbed in her con¬ 
templation of the problems of student life. She 
automatically closed the book on prehistoric man, 
vaguely wondering why it was that she no longer 
resented having come to Berkeley without the lit¬ 
tle coupe, and the beautiful white horse, both 
of which had been so much a part of her life at 
Southern Academy. 

“ Did you finish the assignment? ” With this 
question, Betty brought her back to earth, and 



ROOM-MATES 61 

Florence ruefully gazed at her incomplete 
notes. 

“ Guess I’ll have to breakfast early, and come 
over at eight o’clock to-morrow,” she sighed. 
“ I’ve been dreaming.” 

“And the way some people drop hints about 
time-limits, and so on! ” Betty teased, as they 
turned in their books; but Florence was not per¬ 
turbed, for, in her mind, had sprung up a vigor¬ 
ous resolution to help Sadie Erna, in spite of 
herself. 

“ It’s only quarter after ten,” observed Betty, 
when they were back in their room. “ Let’s make 
some chocolate before we seek our downy 
couches.” 

“ Good! I was going to suggest that we stop 
down-town, if it hadn’t been so late.” 

In the light of their cosy room, Florence forgot 
the problems that were perplexing her, and 
promptly assumed her characteristic cheerful¬ 
ness. 

“ Oh, Betty, there’s only one wee cracker be¬ 
tween the two of us! ” she wailed dolorously. 

Betty looked up from the chafing-dish and 
• frowned. “ I hate to drink chocolate alone,” she 


62 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


said, “but, as visiting the pantry is against 
house-rules, well have to, I guess.” 

Florence glanced at the clock. “ Ten-twenty, 
—I can run out and get some, while you heat the 
water. There’s a little store down the block.” 

“ House-door is locked at ten-thirty, week- 
nights,” Betty reminded her. “ Can you be back 
in nine minutes ? I’d hate to have you brought up 
before Senior Control just for the sake of a few 
crackers.” 

“Nonsense! I’ll be back in three minutes,” 
Florence assured her, and ran softly down the 
stairs. 

The little variety shop on the corner catered 
to just such errands as Florence’s. Cookies and 
fruit occupied one side of the place, while, on the 
other, a small soda-fountain jostled for space 
with miscellaneous odds and ends of stationery, 
pencils, and note-books. Despite the hour, the 
store was crowded with home-going students, 
stopping for various articles that they had for¬ 
gotten to procure down-town. Florence nervously 
glanced at the clock and watched the minute 
hand creep slowly toward the half-hour, while 
she waited for a fussy customer to decide what 
kind of pencil he wanted. 


ROOM-MATES 63 

Twenty-five past! She looked over the assort¬ 
ment of crackers and cookies longingly, and 
sighed at the number of people who must be 
waited on before her turn came. Four minutes 
more! Three! Old Mr. Blake was moving as 
fast as his rheumatic limbs would permit him. 
At twenty-eight minutes past ten, Florence be¬ 
gan to wonder if those crackers were worth a rep¬ 
rimand from the Senior Control Committee. Mr. 
Blake saw that she was in a hurry, and called 
some one from within. Sadie Erna! The old 
man indicated Florence, and Sadie came forward 
with evident reluctance, her face as unsmilingly 
indifferent as though she were approaching a 
total stranger. Florence greeted her pleasantly, 
and showed her what she wanted. 

“ Do you live with the Blakes, Sadie?” she 
asked interestedly. “ If you do, we’re neighbors, 
for I’m only just around the block.” 

“ No, I don’t live here,” Sadie answered. u I 
just work for Mrs. Blake, and help a little in the 
store.” 

Florence noted that she avoided stating where 
she did live, and so refrained from asking. 

“ I suppose you are at some sorority house? ” 
Sadie hinted. 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


64 

“ At the Gamma Zeta,” Florence nodded, try¬ 
ing to steal a look at Sadie’s face as she turned 
away. She wondered why the girl took so long 
to do up a package of crackers, and tapped the 
counter nervously while the clock ticked pre¬ 
cious seconds away. To he sure, a few moment’s 
tardiness was no great crime, hut the house-door 
was regularly locked at ten-thirty. After that, 
it was necessary to ring the hell and he admitted 
hy a Senior proctor who would probably not be 
lenient toward a newly-pledged Freshman, even 
if the offense were only a matter of minutes. 
Florence had no desire to face the cold disap¬ 
proval of an upperclassman, any more than she 
wanted to break the trust which all the Gamma 
Zeta girls had in her and in each other. 

“ Could you hurry a little, please, Sadie? ” she 
begged. “ This clock says ten-thirty. I really 
should be back in my room, right now.” 

Sadie had broken one paper bag and was trans¬ 
ferring the purchase to another, with aggravat¬ 
ing slowness. She did not reply to Florence’s 
plea, but continued her task, tying the package 
with painstaking care and deliberation. It was 
a full five minutes after ten-thirty when she 
counted the change into Florence’s hand. 


ROOM-MATES 


65 

Florence sped out and up the street, worried 
and vexed. She wondered if Sadie were really 
as stupid as she appeared to be to-night, or if, 
as Betty had hinted, the girl was feeling 
“ pouty ” over something. 

Her heart beat rapidly when she at last gained 
the doorway and tried the door with trembling 
fingers. It gave! She entered the lighted hall 
with a sigh of relief. Upstairs she heard low 
voices—Betty’s and Mother Preston’s. She tip¬ 
toed up and faced them inquiringly. They were 
both smiling, but Mrs. Preston turned toward 
Florence with a frown. 

“ You look frightened, Girlie. Has something 
happened? ” 

“Ho, but I thought something was going to. 
I’m five minutes late, Mother Preston,—even if 
Betty did keep you from locking the door on 
time,” she added, twinkling. 

Mrs. Preston smiled. “ Is that all? Well, five 
minutes isn’t so dreadful, especially when I know 
where you are. Just the same, girls, I’d be pretty 
careful about the ten-thirty rule, if I were you. 
You know, the Seniors aren’t so tolerant toward 
Freshmen as I am.” 

It was said kindly, yet it made Florence under- 


66 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

stand tlie seriousness of infringing a house-rule, 
however trivial it might seem; and she was grate¬ 
ful to the loyal room-mate whose explanation had 
saved her the embarrassment of being locked out. 

“ I’d have been back in time if Mr. Blake had 
waited on me,” Florence observed later, when 
they were comfortably sipping chocolate and 
munching crackers. “ But Sadie Erna was work¬ 
ing there, and she was so slow! ” 

Betty smothered an exclamation. “ Next time 
we want crackers at 10:21 p. m v we’ll send 
Miriam,” she giggled. “ You’re too polite to get 
quick service.” 

Florence knew that that was not what Betty 
had intended to say, and she wondered at the 
meaning of that smothered cry. But it was 
eleven o’clock, the signal for “ lights out,” and 
there was no more time to talk. Drawing their 
kimonos about them, they pattered out to the 
sleeping-porch, and said good-night without any 
further allusion to the incident. 


CHAPTER V 


THE “ HOMESICKEST FRESHMAN ” 

It was the day of the traditional Pajamarino 
Rally. All afternoon, Freshmen hoys had been 
toiling to add to the piles of boxes, barrels, old 
furniture, and other miscellaneous scraps of 
wood which were to be sacrificed to the torch of 
the merrymakers in the Greek theatre. Songs 
and cheers broke out in the most sedate classes, 
and the spirit of carnival hovered over all Berke¬ 
ley. 

Florence, exhilarated with the spirit of loyalty 
already strong in her, sped up the stairs of the 
chapter-house merrily singing, 

“ A Californian, through and through, 

Our totem, he, the Golden Bear.” 

She was still humming lightly, as she quickly 
changed from her riding-habit to the warm suit 
she generally wore for chill evenings in the 
Greek Theatre. 

“Not that I expect to suffer from the cold 
with that immense bonfire going,” she told her¬ 
self, “but it will be doubly cool after the fire 

67 


68 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

goes out. Oh bother! I forgot to get any hair¬ 
pins. Wonder if Marceil has any extras/’— 
Marceil being the only other long-haired girl in 
the house. 

Florence knocked at her door, but there was 
no answer. She was about to turn away when 
she heard a sound within, and listened. Some 
one was sobbing bitterly. Florence hesitated un¬ 
certainly, but the impulse to help finally over¬ 
came her. She opened the door softly, and her 
own eyes dimmed at sight of Marceil’s convulsive 
shoulders. 

“Why Marss, dear! What is the matter? 
Can’t I help, or would you rather I went away? ” 

There was no answer, and Florence knelt down 
beside the couch to put her arms about the quiver¬ 
ing figure, murmuring sympathetically until Mar¬ 
ceil grew quieter. 

Marceil threw back her head suddenly, and 
stammered, “ Oh, I know I’m foolish; b-but—I 
can’t help it. Flo,—your—your song was the 
last straw. If I hear another word about Cali¬ 
fornia, I’ll go crazy! ” 

Florence’s eyes flew open with startled sur¬ 
prise. “What? I don’t understand,” she fal¬ 
tered. “ You—you’re in California, aren’t you? ” 


“ HOMESICKEST FRESHMAN " 69 


“Yes, and I’d give anything if I were three 
thousand miles away. Oh—sometimes I just 
can’t bear it—this everlasting ‘ blue skies and 
sunshine/ and I’m so tired of palm-trees and 
eucalyptus groves! I—I’d give a fortune to be 
hiking through the Maine woods, right now.” 

Marceil was tearfully vehement, but Florence’s 
first fright had melted away into sympathy, a 
bit tinged with amusement. 

“ Oh-h-h,” she breathed, recalling Jerry’s char¬ 
acterization of Marceil, the first day they had 
met. She remembered how she had cured her 
own attack of homesickness by forcing her mind 
away from the things that tantalized her, and 
resolved to try the same method with Marceil. 

“ It must be gorgeous back East, about this 
time,” she began, diplomatically. “I’d love to 
ride through a fiery autumn wood myself. Did 
you ride much, Marss? ” 

“No, I never learned, but I used to walk a 
good deal; and I miss our good times, so! ” 
“Ever join the hiking club here?” Florence 
asked, determined to bring her mind back to 
California. 

“No. I tell you I hate walking over dusty 
roads and bare hills for no reason at all except 


70 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


just to be walking. And California isn’t New 
England—that’s all there is to it! ” 

“No—of course East and West are very dif¬ 
ferent,” conceded Florence.—“ I had a nice ride 
up along Wildcat Canyon, this evening,” she 
broke off, forsaking the role of sympathy for one 
of matter-of-fact chattiness. “ The place is just 
alive with wild-flowers,—columbine, wild aster, 
ivy,—more kinds than I know,—and the woods 
are dense with blossoms and foliage.” 

Marceil looked slightly interested. “ I didn’t 
know there were any pretty woods near here. I 
never saw anything but bare, brown hills.” 

“Come with us next time. The Riding Club 
finds all the attractive spots around Berkeley.” 
“ But I can’t ride.” 

“ You can learn. There are other beginners.” 
“ Isn’t it hard and scary at first? ” 

Florence smiled and launched into an en¬ 
thusiastic dissertation on one of her favorite 
pastimes. By the time that the dinner gong 
rang, Marceil was almost cheerful. 

“Goodness!” Florence exclaimed. “Hurry 
and bathe your eyes and put your dress on. Are 
you going to wear your serge to the rally? ” 

“ I’m not going to the rally,” Marceil pouted, 


“ HOMESICKEST FRESHMAN " 71 

becoming dejected again. “ I tell you I don’t 
want to be reminded that I’m way off in Cali¬ 
fornia. I’m going to stay here and write letters 
home.” 

“And they’ll be as blue as indigo,” Florence 
added. “ No sir, you’re going to spare your folks, 
and come and be scorched by the bonfire.” 

She helped Marceil into her dress and accom¬ 
panied her, still protesting, down to the dining¬ 
room where the “ Christmas Freshman ” main¬ 
tained a tearful silence, in spite of the sym¬ 
pathetic efforts of the other girls. But she was 
not permitted to remain at home and write the 
“ indigo ” letters that Florence had prophesied. 
With Jerry on one side, and Florence and Betty 
on the other, she was guided through the groves 
and byways of the campus, among the merry 
groups on their way to the Greek Theatre. 

Betty and Florence waved gaily to other 
groups and called to classmate friends. Marceil 
was silent and gloomy, still obviously wishing 
herself elsewhere. They went in at a lower en¬ 
trance and climbed to their places in the section 
reserved for University Women. Florence did 
not allow Marceil to occupy all her attention. 
She eagerly surveyed the outlines of the big 


72 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

stage, and the rows upon rows of faces which 
lined the terraced theatre. 

“ Isn’t it beautiful, Betty? ” 

“ Yes, but the seats are rather hard,” replied 
that unsesthetic individual. 

“ Then I wish you had brought a cushion, in¬ 
stead of using my feet for one,” complained an 
aggrieved sister on the tier above. 

“ Sing and forget your troubles,” advised Ruth 
as the song-leader stepped out before them, and 
signaled for attention. 

In a moment the air was vibrating with girl 
voices. “ Fight for the Blue and Gold,” they 
sang, and “ Boola,” and “ The Jolly Sophomore.” 
Marceil remained silent, but did not seem averse 
to listening to California’s praises. 

“ Big C means to fight and strive,” echoed 
through the air while three Freshmen boys held 
flaming torches to the huge pile of wood in the 
diazoma of the theatre. The flames raced up¬ 
ward and the great heap was soon a crackling 
mass of fire, whose roaring was mingled with a 
sudden cheering from without. 

“ That’s why they call it Pajamarino,” thought 
Florence as a contingent of sombreroed Seniors 
serpentined across the stage, rhythmically chant- 


" HOMESICKEST FRESHMAN ” 73 


ing their class yell. They were arrayed in paja¬ 
mas of every conceivable hue. 

“ Look at the bright green one! ” Betty 
screamed, like a merry child. 

u The whole rainbow is here/’ laughed Jerry, 
pointing out a brilliant pink that was imme¬ 
diately followed by an equally vivid orange. 

“ Leave it to the Juniors to get the striking 
contrasts! ” observed a proud member of that 
class; but the long, snaky line of Sophomores 
was no less artistic, from that point of view. 

The heat of the lire was intense, and the tiers 
of faces were rapidly becoming hidden behind 
protecting books and papers which gave the 
place the appearance of a grotesque, animated 
library. Freshmen boys were obliged to break 
their picturesque serpentine into a mad scamper 
away from the blistering heat. Marceil forgot 
herself, for a moment, and laughed with the rest. 

There was a sudden silence, and the four 
classes joined in a ferocious growl: 

“ G-rr-rr-r-rr-rr-rrr-rah! 

G-rr-rr-r-rr-rr-rrr-rah! 

Golden Bear! California’s bear! 

G-rr-rr-r-rrr-rr-rrr-rr-rr-r-r-rrr-rr-rah! ’ 9 

From five thousand husky throats, it is no won- 


74 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

der that it made one recall, with a shiver, the 
gigantic bear of Indian legend! The thunder¬ 
ing “ Oski! ” was equally effective. By this time, 
Marceil was ready to join in the applause for 
individual classes and Faculty. 

When the leaping flames died down so that 
they no longer screened the stage from view, 
there was a corresponding lull in excitement, and 
the yell-leader announced the “ stunts.” 

“ That wasn’t so bad,” commented Marceil, 
after the Freshmen’s realistic naval battle had 
been presented by means of fireworks. 

Florence smiled, and hastened to admit that 
the Sophomore contribution was effective, too, 
although it was painful to see a coffin, bearing 
her class numerals, thrust into the flames to the 
accompaniment of a favorite Chopin theme. 

Traditions, songs, and cheers, all dear to the 
hearts of Californians, followed one another 
rapidly. Florence thrilled to them all,—the 
symbolic portrayal of Big C, of the campanile, 
and the Golden Bear. The Senior contribution 
ended dramatically with the unfurling of a huge 
silken emblem and a sudden burst of trained 
voices singing: 

“ Hail to California, Alma Mater dear! ” 


“HOMESICKEST FRESHMAN” 75 

Her pulses spontaneously leaped with, love and 
pride for her University, and she rose with the 
others and joined her sweet soprano to the chorus 
that swelled until the air vibrated with thou¬ 
sands of voices. There was an awed stillness 
after the last ringing “ Hail! 99 

Somebody clutched her arm spasmodically, 
and Florence turned to look into Marceil’s face 
—no longer tearfully petulant, but glowing with 
an intensity of patriotic pride. 

“ Wasn’t that glorious! ” she gasped. “ The 
music,—and the beautiful flag,—and a perfect 
California sky twinkling through the eucalyp¬ 
tus ! ” 


CHAPTER VI 


A NEW FRIEND 

“ Can’t let you have your namesake to-day, 
Miss Essex. Flossie’s been sold to a party who’s 
taking her up North.” Grey-haired Peter Jen¬ 
son shook his head with real regret. 

“ Good old Floss has been sold! ” exclaimed 
Florence disappointedly. “ Just as she and I 
were getting to be such good friends! Why, I’ve 
never known a horse that I liked better, except¬ 
ing my own beautiful Snow Queen.” 

“ It’s too bad. I’m real sorry she had to go— 
especially as all the other good horses in the 
stable have been engaged. I don’t like to inflict 
one of these sleepy old creeturs on a good rider.” 

“What about that chestnut over there?” 
Florence asked eagerly, indicating a spirited colt 
who was frisking about the field outside. 

“That’s Miss Carson’s horse. Expect she’ll 
be here herself in a half-hour or so.” 

Florence sighed, and entered the stable to 
choose from the few available mounts who were 
lazily munching hay in their stalls. 

76 


A NEW FRIEND 


77 


She did not particularly enjoy her ride that 
day. Despite all urging, old Greylock refused 
to be induced to anything more strenuous than 
a leisurely trot, and Florence found herself 
dropping behind until she was finally the last 
of the little group of “ advanced riders.” They 
had made enthusiastic plans for a long jaunt into 
the foothills, but this particular rider lost all 
interest in the attainment of distance, and set¬ 
tled herself to the lazy pace of her unsympathetic 
steed. 

Those in front disappeared around a bend 
some distance ahead, and, biting her lip with 
impatience and mortification, Florence urged 
her horse on, that she might get word to the 
chaperone and give up the useless effort of keep¬ 
ing pace with them. A clatter of hoofs sounded 
from behind, and the sleek chestnut colt galloped 
up and was reined in a few rods beyond. His 
rider was a tall, aristocratic-looking girl, whose 
blue-black hair and arched brows added to the 
distinction of her appearance. Florence ap¬ 
proached and drew rein beside her, smiling as 
she looked into the grey eyes that seemed to 
laugh at her predicament, despite the well-bred 
decorousness of the girl’s face. 


78 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

< 

“ You’re Miss Carson? ” Florence asked, some¬ 
what timidly. 

The girl seemed surprised. “How did you 
know? People about here don’t usually recog¬ 
nize me so readily.” 

Florence wondered how she could avoid the 
embarrassment of explaining that it was not the 
girl, but the horse she had recognized—when she 
was struck with the familiarity of the pink and 
white face under the small, felt hat. 

“ I—I think I’ve seen your picture in the Los 
Angeles papers,” she faltered, at the same time 
recalling that Carson was a familiar name in 
Southern California society. 

“Oh, so you’re from the South, too?” Miss 
Carson smiled. 

“ Santa Barbara,” Florence nodded, doing her 
best to keep alongside the restless chestnut horse. 

“ Aren’t you rather behind the others, Miss —” 

“Essex,” Florence supplied, frowning with 
vexation, but she stifled the impulse to defend 
herself. “ Your horse is impatient for a gallop,” 
she said sweetly. “I wonder if you’d mind 
catching the others and telling Miss Eames that 
I have turned back? She will understand.” 

“I’ll be pleased to,” Miss Carson nodded, 


A NEW FRIEND 


79 

thankful for an excuse to loosen her rein. “ Per¬ 
haps we shall meet again, Miss Essex. Good- 
by.” 

She was off like a shot, and Florence sat 
watching her, uncertain whether to laugh or 
frown. She decided to laugh, and turned her 
horse’s head, with a merry challenge,—“ Just 
you wait, Miss Viola Carson of New York and 
Los Angeles! One of these days, I’ll give your 
skittish chestnut something to think about! ” 

Having given up the effort to speed along the 
road, she had nothing to do but enjoy her soli¬ 
tary ride through the September woods. It was 
the hour that she loved, just before sunset, and 
the foliage all about her glowed with golden 
light. Ivy and woodbine covered the cliffs, late 
summer flowers peeped out among the grass, 
whose greenness had been preserved by the 
kindly shade. The creek tinkled along in the 
canyon below the road. Campers waved to her 
from enticing glens under the trees. 

“ How I wish Marceil were with me! ” Flor¬ 
ence soliloquized. “ One does get tired of prim 
gardens and palm-lined avenues.” 

She found consolation in the fact that she 
might persuade Marceil to come, now that she 


80 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

herself was forced to ride a creature that would 
be a fit companion for the slowest horse Marceil 
might choose. 

As it turned out, they did have many enjoy¬ 
able rides together. Indeed, Marceil became so 
enthusiastic that she purchased a horse of her 
own, and was soon gleefully outdistancing Flor¬ 
ence. Florence jokingly called her ungrateful 
and hard-hearted, but she sometimes found it 
hard to hide her impatience and disappointment 
on the many occasions when she was forced to 
ride old Greylock. She began to dread Viola 
Carson’s superior, encouraging smile and the 
swift clatter of hoofs which always announced 
her approach. 

“ Showing off,” she would murmur vehemently, 
at the same time wishing that she herself had 
just such a chance to “ show off.” 

But there was nothing to do but resign her¬ 
self to circumstances, and as she loved riding 
too much to give it up altogether, she continued 
to get what enjoyment she could out of her 
leisurely canters. Even they were refreshing, 
after a day spent in classrooms and library. 

“Flo, you’re not going riding to-night, are 
you? ” pleaded Betty one Friday evening, as they 


A NEW FRIEND 


81 


were leaving Wheeler Hall. “ Rob and Charles 
have asked Mother Preston to chaperone us on 
a little drive to Oakland,—out around the lake 
and back. You’re the only one who hasn’t said 
4 yes’ to the arrangement. Quick—say it! 
Charlie’s coupe is speedier than old Greylock,” 
she added, her eyes twinkling. 

“ You’re not a bit tactful,” said Florence, try¬ 
ing her best to look injured. “ However, since 
the arrangements seem to be all made, I don’t 
see how I can refuse.” 

“ You’re a precious,” exulted Betty. 

Mark Hendrix, with football under his arm, 
trotted past them toward the stadium. “ Where’s 
your horse to-night?” he inquired roguishly. 
“ Did you decide that your own feet were 
quicker? ” 

“ Is that horse so very terrible? ” queried 
Florence, after his retreating figure. “Every¬ 
body seems to know him.” 

“Why should you care, as long as they are 
not criticizing the rider? ” Betty reasoned. 

“ I’m not sure whether they are or not. May¬ 
be, I am getting too used to the sleepy old brute.” 

“Flo, are you inviting Mark to the Gamma 
Zeta Formal? ” Betty inquired irrelevantly. 


82 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

“ No,—that is, I haven’t put in any one’s name, 
yet.” 

“ But you’re going to invite him? ” 

“I don’t know. Why?” 

“ Well, I’d like to invite Charles.” 

“ Oh! ” Florence understood immediately. 
“ Then, I’ll ask your nice cousin. I wanted to, 
but I thought you were going to.” 

“ And I thought that you might not, in which 
case I’d have to forego the fair Charles whom 
I’ve known ever since I was three. Well, that’s 
settled.” Betty sighed, as though a huge weight 
had slipped off her mind. 

Margaret looked in at their door as soon as 
they were back from their drive. 

“ Flaw-w-rence,” she drawled, “there was a 
telegram came over the ’phone for you. A lady 
coming in from Los Angeles wants you to meet 
her at the pier to-morrow.” 

“Who? ” asked Florence eagerly. 

“ Ah didn’t get the na-ame,” Margaret drawled 
regretfully. “ But Ah gather it’s an old friend. 
You’ll probably recognize her, anyway.” 

“ Oh, but I might miss her in the crowd, if I 
don’t know whom to look for,” protested Flor¬ 


ence. 


A NEW FRIEND 83 

Margaret looked contrite, and rolled her grey 
eyes dolefully. “ Ah’m powerful sorry, but that’s 
the best Ah could make of it. Ah reckon that 
she thinks you’ll recognize her without any 
trouble, crowd or no crowd.” 

Florence saw that it was of no use to protest 
further. Her mind became a whirl of rapid con¬ 
jecture, which did not cease, even when she and 
Betty walked toward the pier in San Francisco, 
next day. 

“ If it were mock-initiation season, I’d be sus¬ 
picious,” she said, when they were waiting im¬ 
patiently at the appointed place near the pier. 
Crowds passed by,—grey-haired women, well- 
dressed young girls, wide-eyed tourists, hurrying 
business people. Florence recognized none of 
them, and, as the crowd thinned, and baggage 
carts began to whiz back and forth all about 
them, she looked at Betty quizzically. 

“ Betty, tell me. Is it all a joke? ” 

“ A mighty poor one, if it is,” Betty asserted. 
“Honestly, Flo, I don’t know any more about 
this than you do.” 

Just as they were contemplating turning away, 
the air was stirred with a long-drawn-out neigh, 
and Florence, with an exclamation of delight, 


84 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

turned to behold her own Snow Queen tugging 
at the rope by which she was held. Without an 
instant’s hesitation, she rushed to the horse’s 
side and took the beautiful white head in her 
arms, exclaiming with gladness while the horse 
returned her caresses in its own fashion, neigh¬ 
ing for pure joy at sight of her beloved mistress. 

“ Don’t need credentials after that,” laughed 
the baggageman, “ but they’ll want your signa¬ 
ture at the office. I’ll hold her for you.” 

It was easier said than done, for Snow Queen, 
once having caught sight of her mistress, was 
loth to let her go, and Florence had to use all 
her powers of persuasion before the usually 
obedient horse would consent to stand still long 
enough to permit arrangements for her transpor¬ 
tation to Berkeley. 

“ It was Jim who did that, the old dear,” Flor¬ 
ence decided, when she and Betty were on their 
way back. u It’s just like him to send a mys¬ 
terious telegram so that I’d not get an inkling 
of the grand surprise awaiting me.” 

She was bubbling over with happiness, and 
could concentrate on nothing else until Snow 
Queen was comfortably housed in the best stall 
available at Jenson’s. 



Her own Snow Queen .—Page 8 U. 






























A NEW FRIEND 


8 S 

u No more old Greylock for me!” she rejoiced, 
reveling in the task of brushing out Snow Queen’s 
luxuriant mane. “ Oh, won’t we make Viola Car¬ 
son’s Lightning look to his paces, my Queen! ” 

She took her first ride, alone, while Berkeley 
was still wrapped in the blue mists of early 
morning; and, judging from the horse’s be¬ 
havior, Florence was not alone in her ecstasy 
over this unexpected reunion. 

Snow Queen was not the only white horse in 
the Jenson stables, but she was, by far, the most 
beautiful one, and she attracted much attention 
those first few days. Florence’s contemporaries, 
who had laughed and joked good-naturedly about 
old Greylock, now regarded her and her mount 
with envy and admiration, and Florence, being 
human, herein found some compensation for the 
lazy rides on Greylock. 

She had taken several trips on Snow Queen 
before she again heard the familiar clatter of 
Viola Carson’s galloping horse. As had been 
her custom, she slipped to the side of the road 
to let her pass. But Viola did not proceed far 
ahead before she wheeled and trotted her horse 
back toward Florence, her face betraying a mix¬ 
ture of surprise and admiration. 


86 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

“ Miss Essex—it’s you! How did you happen 
to get hold of that beautiful horse? Isn’t it quite 
a jump from old Greylock? Aren’t you afraid? 
Though, I must admit that you make a pretty 
picture, sitting so gracefully on the snowy crea¬ 
ture.” 

u It is quite a jump from old Greylock to 
Snow Queen,” Florence agreed, dimpling, “but 
I manage to get along all right.” 

“ Have you tried a gallop on her? ” Viola in¬ 
quired sweetly. 

“ I was intending to try a little gallop when 
we got to that straight piece of road ahead,” 
Florence replied demurely. 

“ Good! ” encouraged Viola. “ I’ll keep along¬ 
side.” 

Florence smiled mischievously, and said no 
more until they reached the point directly be¬ 
yond the turn of the road. Then, patting Queen, 
and leaning forward to murmur a word in her 
ear, she let out the rein and spurted ahead like 
a white streak. Viola kept apace for a short dis¬ 
tance, but gradually dropped behind. Snow 
Queen had experienced many a long, arduous 
run in her life, and enjoyed this sudden, mad 
dash as much as her rider did. 


A NEW FRIEND 


87 

When Florence at last pulled rein and stopped, 
Viola was nowhere in sight, and several seconds 
ticked away before the chestnut colt came into 
view, far down the road. Viola finally drew 
alongside and, smiling, reached a hand to her 
vanquisher. 

“ Congratulations! You certainly did that 
prettily. Now I think I know who is the ‘ private 
owner’ whose name Peter Jenson refused to 
divulge when I asked him about your horse. But 
tell me, you little rogue, why all this pretense? ” 

“ I had no intention of pretending, until after 
you had formed your opinion of my riding,” 
Florence smiled. “ Old Greylock was much too 
big and clumsy for me, besides being the laziest 
horse that ever ate oats. It piqued me a little to 
think that an experienced horsewoman couldn’t 
see that the fault was in the horse, and not in 
the rider. To-day I couldn’t resist the tempta¬ 
tion to surprise you a bit.” 

“ Forgive me,” Viola laughed. “ I’m afraid I 
always was a little too proud of my riding, and 
now I’m properly punished. Shall we canter 
back together? ” 

This was the beginning of a friendship that 
was to shed its influence over all Florence’s life. 


CHAPTER VII 


BIG GAME WEEK 

Two hundred Logic 1-a students were buzzing 
with the industry usually characteristic of the 
few minutes preceding the entrance of Professor 
Grey. A young man walked briskly down the 
aisle and up the steps of the platform,—a signal 
for fountain pens to be uncapped, and for two 
hundred pairs of eyes to turn toward him, in 
expectation of some academic announcement. 
But the grin on this young man’s face was not 
conducive to a serious attitude of mind, and no 
wonder, for they saw now that he was not a 
Sophomore “ reader,” but a very energetic Fresh¬ 
man yell-leader. 

“ Come on, Freshmen! ” he shouted. “ There 
are two members of the Varsity in this room 
right now. Let’s show ’em what we think of 
them! ” 

The usual “ Oski! ” gave way to a prolonged 
cheer for the Varsity, and then a song, in which 
the girls joined heartily. 

Whatever Freshmen were surprised by this 
unacademic display were to find that songs and 

88 


BIG GAME WEEK 89 

cheers were a regular part of recitation and lec¬ 
ture programs during Big Game Week. Learned 
professors and scholarly instructors indulged 
their classes smilingly. It was often possible to 
see a grey-bearded lecturer on Greek antiquities 
or Orthogonal Metrics joining whole-heartedly 
in a rousing “ Bah! ” or adding a cheerful bari¬ 
tone to the melody of “ Hail to California! ” 

At night, “Big C,” guarded by watchful Sopho¬ 
mores, sprang out of the darkness in a blaze of 
electric lights, and stood against the blackness 
of the hills like an alphabetical constellation sus¬ 
pended over the earth. 

The Gamma Zeta Formal was a part of the 
week’s festivities. Florence donned her green 
ruffles and her mother’s emerald ring, feeling that 
her best and prettiest were none too good for 
this occasion. Was not her escort a “ guardian 
of the C ” who had done his duty by the shining 
letter early in the evening, so that he might be 
free to be with her? 

“ We’re both ready,” said Betty at last. 
“ Shall we trot around and see everybody? ” 

“ Yes, if you are prepared to make yourself 
useful with hooks, pins, and so on.” 


90 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

They went from room to room, exclaiming 
over the shining visions in silks and gauzy stuffs. 

“I think this is going to be a really pretty 
party, ’spite of the men,” Sidney Cartwright 
volunteered, glimpsing down the hall the color¬ 
ful, radiant groups of girls. “What do you 
mean by having two corsages, Florence? ” as the 
maid deposited two floral offerings, both bearing 
the same name. 

The recipient exclaimed with delight over the 
daintiest of French bouquets, a perfect finish¬ 
ing touch for her gossamer ruffles. “ The other 
is for the game to-morrow.” She held up to the 
admiring audience a gorgeous specimen of the 
traditional California chrysanthemum, sur¬ 
rounded by violets and fern and finished with 
blue-and-gold streamers of rich, satin ribbon. 
“ Isn’t Betty’s cousin an angel? ” 

“Not that I have ever noticed!” Betty testi¬ 
fied, just as Ruth ran up the stairs calling softly: 

“ Girls! The guests are beginning to arrive, 
and if the rest of the receiving line will come 
down, we can start things properly.” 

Florence’s first formal dance was perfect—all 
she had dreamed it would be: beautiful gowns 
and colorful decorations in harmony with the 


BIG GAME WEEK 


9i 


wonderful music, all the courtesy and gentility 
of good breeding in each participant. Programs 
had been previously arranged so that there were 
no odd dancers, and the evening sped smoothly 
along. 

“ Are you all excited about the game? ” Robert 
Arclift asked, as they refreshed themselves at 
the punch booth. 

“What a question! When nobody has been 
able to think of anything else for days! ” 

“ Well, you wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t 
thrilled,” Robert beamed. u Outside folks come 
hundreds of miles for the occasion.” 

“ And spend as many dollars! ” 

“ It is always the way. I certainly am looking 
forward to our party to-morrow. Here comes a 
Varsity man right now, looking as though he 
is determined to have a dance with you before 
he has to report back to training-quarters.” 

The Big Game excitement reached its highest 
pitch on the following day. The campus teemed 
with visitors from all points of the compass, each 
one wearing either the blue and gold of Cali¬ 
fornia, or the cardinal and white of Stanford. 
Honking automobiles fairly streamed through the 


92 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


decorated streets. In every store window, minia¬ 
ture footballs and favors abounded among the 

red and white or blue and gold. Songs and 

» 

cheers broke out of dormitories and fraternity 
houses every few moments. Pennants and rib¬ 
bons fluttered, lettered chrysanthemums were vis¬ 
ible on all sides. 

“ I don’t know when I’ve been so thrilled! ” 
Florence beamed. She was being ably guided 
through the crush toward the great stadium by 
Eobert, in company with Betty, Charles, and 
Mrs. Preston. 

Following the carefully placed signs of the 
color matching their tickets, they found them¬ 
selves at the stadium entrance and inside, with¬ 
out any undue crowding or confusion. 

“ Just look at the people here already, and I 
thought we were early! ” 

“ And look up on the hills above the stadium! 
The place is black with them! ” 

“ There ought to be over eighty thousand here 
this afternoon,” Robert estimated. 

“ Enough to fill several fair-sized towns,” Flor¬ 
ence observed. “ Think of all the places and 
classes they represent.” 

It was fascinating to watch the human stream, 


BIG GAME WEEK 


93 


the densely packed tiers of the mammoth sta¬ 
dium, to listen to the well-drilled rooting sec¬ 
tions, and breathe deep of the excitement. Pres¬ 
ently there was a lull, followed by renewed cheers 
as the uniformed bands marched in, columned 
twice around the field, and then formed ranks 
together in the centre for an inspiring rendition 
of “ The Star Spangled Banner.” 

“ Why, you’re just quivering! ” exclaimed Rob¬ 
ert, as he assisted Florence to her seat again. 

Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed a 
defiant crimson rival to the yellow chrysanthe¬ 
mum nestling on her shoulder. “ Who wouldn’t 
be? ” she laughed. u It’s all so—so magnifi¬ 
cent ! ” 

A sudden prolonged cheer, and the Cardinal 
huskies, escorted by a troupe of red-plaided 
pipers, filed onto the field. Another, swelling in 
volume, and the Blue and Golds came on, a fluffy 
little bear-cub trotting along in front, quite as if 
he knew that he belonged to them, and was proud 
to tell the world so! Eighty thousand throats, 
and every one of them ready to split in its effort 
to cheer on the men. For several long minutes 
the din continued, only stopping when the 
whistle blew for line-up. A sudden hush before 


94 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

the kick-off by Trent of California. Ah—the 
game is on! 

Florence’s knowledge of football was not very 
scientific, but she had been a willing pupil under 
such expert coaches as Robert, the Gamma Zeta 
girls, and most important perhaps—Mark Hen¬ 
drix, who was now conspicuous on the field. She 
watched every move breathlessly, cheered with 
the rest when California gained a yard, sighed 
with them when the ball went back into Stan¬ 
ford’s territory. The first and second quarters 
passed with the score boards still reading 0-0. 

With victory still an open question, the multi¬ 
tude eagerly turned their attention to what the 
rooting sections had to offer. By means of col¬ 
ored caps on the heads of the regularly seated 
rooters, California and Stanford gave a surpris¬ 
ing exhibition of pictures composed of human 
beings. At a signal, the Stanford section became 
a field of white. 

“ Spell it! ” the yell-leader shouted. 

An explosive “ S ” rent the air simultane¬ 
ously with the appearance of a red letter on the 
field of white. “ T,” they cheered, and a crimson 
T jumped into being beside the S. So they 
spelled it, until accompanied by a hearty “ Rah! ” 


BIG GAME WEEK 


95 

the whole name STANFORD stood emblazoned 
in brilliant scarlet, against the white back¬ 
ground. Perfectly done, the unison and preci¬ 
sion in the magic change of caps would have done 
credit to a trained army squad. 

As the cheering died away, all eyes were 
turned to the California side, which had become 
a huge square of blue. From the extreme top, a 
tiny red S jerkily intruded its way down. The 
air suddenly reverberated with a ferocious 
“ G-rrr-rr-rrr-rr-rah! ” and a mammoth golden 
bear appeared, vivid against the blue. The S 
jumped back, but Bruin opened prodigious jaws, 
stretched them over the S’s tiny form, and 
snapped them shut! The red S had become a 
part of the golden bear to the tune of 

“ When onr Oski rips through the air, 
Stanford’s team will be found 
In the tummy of the Golden Bear! ’ ’ 

It was in the early part of the third quarter 
that Hendrix made a spectacular sixty-yard run. 
Followed a few moments of feverishly excited 
play, and California had scored a touchdown. 
Prolonged cheering suddenly hushed as Cali¬ 
fornia’s man stepped before the goal to “con- 


96 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

vert ”; renewed cheering, when a well-placed kick 
sent the ball over. The score board now read 
“ California 7, Stanford 0.” 

The last quarter, California was quietly confi¬ 
dent, Stanford fluctuating between discourage¬ 
ment and a desperate final sally. They decide for 
the latter, and the game progresses with renewed 
speed and vigor. The ball is within ten yards of 
Stanford’s goal. “ Take it back, California! ” 
they shout on one side, and on the other, “ Make 
it a touchdown, Stanford! ” A fierce struggle, 
Stanford loses, gains again, but California gets 
possession of the ball just as the last two minutes 
are ticking away. Their only hope of scoring 
is by a goal from the field, and after a successful 
forward pass, the result is certain. California 
scores another three points just as the final 
whistle blows! 

Florence never forgot the mad excitement of 
it all, the cheering and band playing and con¬ 
gratulations and laughter all mixed together,— 
the victorious serpentine across the field. 

“ ( The game’s the thing,’ I suppose,” she 
parodied, as they picked their way through the 
crowd, “but just the same, what would it be 
without all the frills?” 


BIG GAME WEEK 


97 


“ It would be a mere game/’ laughed Robert. 
“ But the Big Game would not be complete with¬ 
out the frills. Dinner at the Palace is the finish¬ 
ing touch/’ he cheerily informed her, as they 
boarded a train for San Francisco and hurried 
Mrs. Preston into the only available seat. 

A stranger arriving at the Palace that evening 
would have thought the excitement just begun. 
Singing, cheering, laughing crowds of youths and 
girls, with more than a few older faces among 
them, filled the great dining-room and all the 
banquet-rooms. Californians waved blue ribbons 
and yellow chrysanthemums and glowed with 
victory. Stanfordites showed their colors, too, 
and talked of what they would do next year. 

Mrs. Preston and her party sat at a table in 
the main dining-room, where excitement still ran 
high. Florence was thrusting her spoon into a 
frozen golden “ football ” when she heard her 
name, and looked up inquiringly. Viola Carson 
smiled at her from a table near by, and, as the 
Freshman nodded her pleased recognition, the 
older girl and her escort rose and came toward 
her. 

“Miss Essex, I have told my brother how a 
little Freshman and her horse got the better of 


98 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

me and Lightning. He has been very eager to 
meet you; may I present him? ” 

While Florence in turn introduced her friends 
to Mrs. Preston and the others, she had time to 
observe Ted Carson’s blue-black hair and comely 
face. He was a counterpart, in masculine, of his 
lovely sister. His deference to Mrs. Preston, his 
interest in the younger members of the party, 
won them all. In five minutes, Viola and her 
brother were quite “ one of them,” and later the 
little group exchanged several dances. 

Ted Carson was a man of wide and varied ex¬ 
periences. He could tell breath-taking stories 
of his adventures during the war, when he had 
often piloted his plane under the very noses of 
German dirigibles. Unlike Viola, who was ret¬ 
icent about her travels, Ted vastly enjoyed tell¬ 
ing of his experiences, once he was assured of 
an appreciative listener, and Florence was such. 
Her round-eyed attention flattered him; he was 
at his best, that night at the Palace. 

To the young girl, whose travels had never 
extended beyond the boundaries of California, 
and whose most thrilling adventure had been the 
time she had lost herself within a hundred yards 
of camp in the Yosemite, Ted Carson was like a 


BIG GAME WEEK 


99 


story-book bero come to life. He bad beauty, 
wealth, distinguished friends, he had been lauded 
for bravery in the war; though very much “a 
man of the world/’ he had also the mark of the 
out-of-doors, he was evidently one of those rare 
individuals who can adapt himself to coffee and 
beans in a shelterless wilderness, as well as to 
p&te-de-fois-gras sandwiches and pink tea at the 
Ritz. Both he and Viola were the very antithesis 
of the bored, self-important society butterfly. 

Florence was not the only one who found them 
an attractive pair. It was obvious that the 
others were pleased and honored by their pres¬ 
ence, though Charles Hartley and Robert Ar- 
clift might have resented, just a little bit, the in¬ 
trusion of this attractive being whose poise and 
maturity rendered them so boyishly gauche by 
contrast. 

They parted with good-natured plans to meet 
again in the future, but Robert could not quite 
conceal his relief when the conversation shifted 
from the enviable qualities of the Carsons back 
to the subject of Alma Mater and the newly in¬ 
spired desire to “ do something proud ” for the 
Blue and Gold. 


> 




CHAPTER VIII 


i 


CONTRASTS 

As Mrs. Essex had prophesied, college days 
fairly seemed to fly. After the Big Game came 
Thanksgiving and a hurried trip home, Florence 
arriving just in time to sit down to turkey din¬ 
ner. Two memorable days with the dear ones, 
much humored and petted, passed like a happy 
dream. 

There was a decided air of “ getting back to 
work ” when she returned to Berkeley. Festiv¬ 
ities had given way to the more serious business 
of preparing for mid-year finals. Already the 
foreboding yellow lists of examination hours 
were posted, and there was always a group about 
them, industriously noting the time and places 
of various three-hour “ exams.” 

Pre-winter fogs and chill took away the charm 

of outdoor study, and the lawns and gardens of 

\ 

the campus began to be deserted in favor of the 
library. 

Florence was nervously watching the hands of 

the campanile clock creep slowly past the hour, 

while Professor Costa, blithely unconscious of 

ioo 

i 

c ( < J 
< ( 

C C <f 


CONTRASTS 


IOI 


the passage of time, read on in Cato’s “De 
Senectute.” Florence was not yet at the age 
when the opinion of an ancient philosopher re¬ 
garding old age should he of vital interest to her, 
but that was not the reason for her unrest. She 
had a class in the Greek Theatre at eleven o’clock, 
—and the Greek Theatre was a long walk from 
Wheeler Hall. 

When Professor Costa laid down his hook, she 
half rose, ready to make a hurried exit, but he 
picked up another book. 

“ Just one minute more,” he pleaded. “ I want 
to give you a few words from Horace in order 
that those of you who are doubtful about going 
on with Latin may be persuaded not to give it 
up. FTo life is really rich without a first-hand 
acquaintance with Horace’s 4 Odes and Epodes.’ 
Just a short selection. Listen, now.” 

Florence sank back in her seat and tried her 
best to appreciate the beauties of the Latin poet, 
but, after a few moments had ticked away and 
Professor Costa was still reading as though he 
never intended to stop, she rose quietly, and 
resolutely walked to the door. 

“Whither goest thou, my Muse?” translated 
Professor Costa serenely, and a burst of laughter 


102 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

called him back from the glories of Koman litera¬ 
ture to the twinkling eyes of a roomful of twen¬ 
tieth-century students. 

Florence’s exit was doubly hurried by this lit¬ 
tle incident. u A minute and a half to get to the 
Greek Theatre/’ she worried. “ Professor Ashe 
was going to start a comprehensive review to¬ 
day.” She did not want to miss a moment of it. 

Coming to the outer door, she looked up at the 
grey sky in dismay. It was completely clouded 
over, and, already, large drops were beginning to 
fall. 

“ I thought it would rain,” she voiced in¬ 
wardly, rejoicing in the fact that she had brought 
an umbrella. “ I suppose this means no class in 
the Theatre, but it may be only a shower. I’ll 
run up and see.” 

The campanile stood gleaming white against 
the sombre sky. As Florence looked up at it, the 
minute hand of the clock jumped to ten minutes 
past eleven, and, simultaneously, there came a 
downpour as if to assure her that she need not 
hurry. She turned back. There was no other 
available place large enough to accommodate 
Professor Ashe’s class, and so “ the first rain of 
the season ” rendered the class excused. 


CONTRASTS 


103 


Florence followed the few hurrying figures still 
visible on the almost deserted campus. The rain 
was coming down in earnest now. Book-laden 
students and professors were scurrying to find 
shelter. As Florence hurried back toward 
Wheeler Hall, she saw a bent little figure ahead 
of her, mincing along on tiptoe in an effort to 
keep her feet dry. Her books were sheltered in¬ 
side the shabby sweater, but she had no umbrella. 
Florence caught up with her. 

“ Have a piece of my umbrella, Sadie,” she 
smiled. “ I seem to be one of the lucky few who 
brought one to the campus to-day.” 

Sadie Erna smiled but faintly and glanced 
about as if ready to flee, but finally fell in step 
beside Florence. 

“ Isn’t this a downpour, considering that it’s 
our first rain? ” babbled Florence, determined to 
make Sadie Erna forget herself for once. She 
was sure that the made-over clothes and shabby 
shoes, in which the water squeaked at every step, 
were the cause of Sadie’s discomfiture. “ Do you 
have many finals, Sadie? ” she went on, in a des¬ 
perate effort to make conversation. 

“ Seven,” replied Sadie perfunctorily. 

“ Seven! Why, you’ll kill yourself! ” 


104 


HAIL , CALIFORNIAf 


“ I am hoping to get my degree at the end of 
three years,” volunteered Sadie, striding ahead 
with disconcerting haste. 

“Oh! Well, you certainly are ambitious!” 
Florence readily understood why Sadie wished to 
shorten her college course, and tactfully re¬ 
frained from further reference to overwork. It 
would be of no use to talk to Sadie Erna about 
that. 

“ Thanks very much. I turn here,” said Sadie, 
and she scurried away down Pepper Tree Alley 
before Florence had any opportunity to protest. 
It was still pouring. Sadie would be drenched 
before she even reached the street. 

Florence continued on her own way, trying to 

* 

reason away the feeling that Sadie Erna’s 
“ queerness ” was not all self-consciousness, but 
that, as Betty had hinted, the girl actually had 
some antipathy toward her. She recalled the 
incident at the store. Betty seemed to think 
that Sadie had deliberately delayed her, know¬ 
ing that every second was precious. She remem¬ 
bered other occasions,—once on the hockey-field, 
when Sadie had played against her with almost 
savage roughness; she recalled the expression on 
Sadie’s face as she turned away from the bul- 


CONTRASTS 


105 

letin-board on which Florence’s name was posted 
in the intersorority tennis list. 

“ But why should she dislike me? ” Florence 
puzzled. “ Goodness knows, I try to be friendly 
enough.” 

When she reached the Wheeler Hall rest-room, 
thoughts of Sadie were immediately dispersed by 
the sunshine of Viola Carson’s smile. Florence 
was somewhat flattered by the attention paid 
her by this prominent Senior and, aside from her 
actual regard for Viola, she liked to be seen in 
the company of a girl whose very appearance dis¬ 
tinguished her. 

Viola nodded pleasantly as she was passing 
with a group of friends, but she returned just as 
Florence was opening her note-book. 

“Mce little Freshman,” began Viola taking 
a seat beside her, “ put your books away. I want 
to talk to you a minute.” 

Viola was always irresistible but, when she 
thus put herself out to be pleasant, Florence’s 
good intentions were not proof against her. The 
note-book closed with a bang, and she was all 
attention. 

u I suppose you’re going home for Christmas? ” 
Viola went on. 


io 6 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

“ Oh yes indeed! And I’m taking t the home- 
sickest Freshman in the country’ with me, to 
show her what a California Christmas is like.” 

“ The little Boston girl? ” queried Viola. “ Of 
course she wants to pick roses on Christmas Day. 
They all do. Is—will she be with you all vaca¬ 
tion? ” 

“ I think so, though some of the other girls 
will want her too, I expect.” 

“ Then you must introduce her to me,” Viola 
smiled. “ I want you to visit me at my home for 
a few days at least. You will, won’t you? 
There’s a dear. And of course your guest must 
come, too. I shall ask her personally, as soon as 
you make us acquainted.” 

Florence tried not to show that she was over¬ 
whelmed. The Carson mansion was pointed out 
to tourists and strangers as one of the sights of 
the city. Florence could remember when she had 
viewed it from afar and had told her mother 
that it must be the home of a veritable princess. 
And now, the princess was asking her to be a 
guest at the gleaming white castle! 

“ That’s lovely of you,” Viola was saying, ob¬ 
viously pleased by Florence’s eager acquiescence, 
and speaking as though the prospective guest 


CONTRASTS 


107 

were the one who was bestowing the favor. 
“ You’ll have your horse shipped south for the 
holidays, I suppose? Good! We’ll have some 
glorious rides together.” 

It was still raining when the twelve o’clock 
chimes startled them out of their animated dis¬ 
cussion of horses and equestrian experiences. 
Florence was glad to take advantage of Viola’s 
offer to drive home with her. In a shining grey 
coupe she sped along the wet streets, comparing 
Viola’s trim, silk-clad ankles, warm and dry, 
with Sadie’s shabbily dressed feet, from which 
the water seeped at every step. 


CHAPTER IX 


MARCEH/S CALIFORNIA CHRISTMAS 

“ I wish I were taking you home with me for 
Christmas, Flo,” pouted Betty. They had just 
finished a three-hour Logic examination, and 
were strolling about the campus like the most 
luxurious of idlers. “We could have such a 
good time up there in the snow.” 

“ You’re a dear, and we will have an exchange 
of visits before very long.” 

Betty linked her arm into Florence’s with an 
affectionate little gesture. “ Maybe there will 
be snow for Christmas. I thought Marceil might 
like to come, too. Doesn’t she get the most vio¬ 
lent fits of homesickness sometimes? You must 
let her come for the last part of vacation. You 
don’t think me mean to take her away from you, 
do you? ” 

“ Of course not,” Florence assured her. 
“ Marss will love it, and, if I hadn’t promised 
Viola, I’d love to come, too.” 

Just at that moment a big raindrop splashed 
on her cheek. “ Why, it’s raining! ” she cried, 

108 


MARCEIL’S CHRISTMAS 109 

looking up at the overcast sky. “I guess we 
can’t have our stroll after all! ” 

The campus did not look especially inviting, 
at any rate. It was dull and deserted except for 
a few scattered groups who, like themselves, had 
just been released from examinations. They 
passed a couple arguing over the date of Virgil’s 
birth, and another discussing the characteristics 
of protoplasm. 

“ How learned every one is around examina¬ 
tion time,” Florence remarked. “ Just to sit on 
the library steps and listen to the discussion is 
an education.” 

“Not on a rainy day. Hurry, or we’ll be 
drenched. Let’s go back through the botanical 
gardens.” 

They ran across the campus, laughingly enjoy¬ 
ing their dash through the cool, damp air, and 
gained the porch of the house just in time to up¬ 
set an expressman coming out with a load of 
suitcases. 

“ Which reminds me,” said Betty, “ that I am 
not entirely a lady of leisure, even if I have 
finished my last examination. Are you all 
packed, Flo? ” 

“ No, haven’t even begun yet. There won’t be 



no 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA/ 

any chance to start now, either. By the time we 
get into dry things, the dinner gong will ring. 
I’ll help you to-night, though, if you want me 
to. Viola has her last 1 exam.’ on Thursday. She 
has invited Marss and me to share her compart¬ 
ment—isn’t that dear of her? ” 

“ Yes,—that means a whole day to wait, 
though, doesn’t it? It’s a shame to waste a day 
around this deserted house,” mumbled Betty 
from the closet. Somehow, Viola’s wealth and 
charm had failed to inspire her. u Isn’t this the 
deadest place, now that so many of the girls have 
gone home? ” she went on. 

They kept up a lively conversation, a reaction, 
perhaps, to the long strain of the final examina¬ 
tion period, as well as an effort to offset the 
dreariness of the dark day and the nearly empty 
house. The lonesomeness and quiet was a de¬ 
pressing contrast to the usual girlish animation 
which abounded, especially at the end of the 
semester with its rush of good-bys and exchange 
of mysterious packages “ not to be opened until 
Christmas.” 

The trip south was thoroughly enjoyable, 
though uneventful. The weather had cleared, 


MARCEIL’S CHRISTMAS m 


and the sun shone out of a sky that was bluer 
than ever. Hills and woodland were just begin¬ 
ning to robe themselves in winter verdure, which 
the rain had coaxed out. 

Marceil exclaimed and eulogized sufficiently 
to satisfy even the most loyal native daughter, 
and when they jumped off the train at the flower¬ 
decked Santa Barbara station, she was still 
laughingly exclaiming, “And to think it’s De¬ 
cember ! ” 

Dr. and Mrs. Essex were there to greet the 
returned absentee, and Jim appeared around the 
corner of the station with a comical expression 
of surprise on his tanned face. 

“ I didn’t know the train was in! ” he cried, 
as soon as Florence’s impetuous embrace gave 
him an opportunity to speak. “ I just went over 
there to buy a souvenir candle to keep the girls 
from getting homesick, or rather c college-sick,’ 
during vacation.” 

Introductions were made very informally, and 
then Jim opened a box and held up to them a tall, 
four-sided white candle, pointed at the top, and 
with clock and windows painted on each of its 
four sides—a perfect miniature of the campanile. 

“ How clever! ” smiled Viola, and therewith 


11 2 HAIL , CALIFORNIA/ 

Jim bowed and delivered it into her hands. 
“ Pray do me the honor to accept, Fair Lady,” he 
said grandiosely. “ Your train is about to leave, 
and I have plenty of time to buy another for each 
of these girls.” 

“ Thank you, indeed! ” said the daughter of 
the wealthy Carsons, as delighted as if some 
priceless gift had been bestowed upon her. 

Reciprocal thanks, good-bys, and promises to 
meet again filled the last minute while Viola 
stood upon the step and waved. The wheels 
were slowly turning, and the train, gathering 
speed, moved off toward Los Angeles. 

Marceil continued to be all interest as the 
sedan bore them through the business section 
and out into the broad, residential avenues. Her 
first act, upon reaching the Essex cottage, was 
to run to the side of the house, where she had 
spied an orange-tree. 

“ I’ve always wanted to see what a real, live 
orange-tree looked like,” she laughed, picking 
one of the green fruit. “May I borrow your 
knife, Dr. Essex? I want to see what a green 
orange is like inside.” 

Laughingly, they watched her cut open the 
fruit, and look up, disappointed. 


MARC El US CHRISTMAS 


“3 


“ Yellow! ” she cried, “ and I thought it would 
be a beautiful, transparent green. California is 
a land of disillusion,” she added in a mock-tragic 
tone that told them she thought quite the op¬ 
posite. 

MarceiFs first morning in Santa Barbara 
dawned warm and clear. She lay blinking at the 
sunbeam that tormented her as if to wake her 
with its cheery greeting, and then sat up and 
looked through the screen of the sleeping-porch, 
out over the treetops. Sun glistened on the blue 
Pacific in the distance, and shed its mellow light 
on the thin blades of palms, the clumps of calla- 
lilies and roses in the garden below. 

“ And to think it’s less than a week till Christ¬ 
mas ! ” she sighed delightedly. “ It just can’t 
be!” 

She dressed and went downstairs, where she 
found Florence setting the table for breakfast 
in the sunny dining-room. 

“ Good-morning. Can I help? ” Marceil called 
cheerily. 

“ You might run out and get some fresh flowers 
for the table,” suggested Florence, with a sly 
little smile at Jim who came in rattling the 
morning paper. 


11 4 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

Marceil saw the smile and wagged her head 
knowingly. “ I may as well admit that there 
isn’t anything I’d rather do, just now,” she 
smiled. “ I intend to do everything in tradi¬ 
tional style—pick flowers and oranges (even if 
they are green) on Christmas Day, and see an 
ostrich, an alligator, and a motion-picture star 
with my own eyes! ” 

u Hollywood would be mightily flattered to 
have you classify its darlings with the ostriches 
and alligators,” Jim laughed. 

“ I don’t care. They’re the three wonders of 
the West,” Marceil retorted, dancing out of the 
French doors into the garden. 

She plucked choice specimens of pink roses 
and creamy calla-lilies. In a damp corner she 
found a flourishing fernery, and cut some fronds 
to add to her bouquet. 

“ I just can’t make myself believe that it’s 
Christmas Week,” she said, coming in, her eyes 
still wide with wonder. 

Florence beamed. “ It’s going to be such fun 
giving you a California Christmas! ” 

Marceil’s visit with the Essexes was a very 
homey, happy one. They all, even Indian Minna, 



MAR CEIL’S CHRIS TMAS 115 

treated her with an informal hospitality that 
quite delighted her and made her feel as though 
she belonged among them. There were long, de¬ 
lightful walks through the woods that made her 
think of springtime in New England, there were 
exhilarating rides up in the hills, and, now and 
then, a swim in the curling surf. 

“ I don’t remember when I’ve ever had such a 
good time before,” she exulted one day, as they 
sought a warm spot in the sand and sat down to 
watch the crested waves roll in. “ But isn’t it 
terribly hard to keep track of the seasons here? 
Doesn’t it get monotonous having summer all the 
time? ” 

“We don’t have summer all the time, and our 
seasons are not all alike. It gets quite chilly in 
the winter. Why, last year, the dew was frozen 
one morning, and it didn’t get comfortably warm 
until afternoon.” 

Marceil laughed. “ Well, that’s what I mean. 
Just a little variation in temperature, but the 
seasons are not very different. One can hardly 
tell them apart, except that it rains in the winter, 
and doesn’t in the summer,” Jerry would have 
rejoiced could she have heard the spirited way 
in which Florence replied. 


ii6 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

“But isn’t that just as distinct a difference 
as having it cold in the winter and hot in the 
summer? ” 

“ Oh, no! I wish you could spend a year in 
New England, Florence. You’d love it. Spring 
is so warm and moist and green, after the cold 
of winter, and then comes summer—that’s just 
like Santa Barbara winter—fluffy dresses and 
cool drinks, and water sports. I think I love 
the autumn best, though. The air has a bracing 
tang in it, and there’s nothing so exhilarating as 
hiking through the woods under the boughs of 
flaming leaves.” 

“ I’d love to see the autumn woods,” breathed 
Florence, looking into Marceil’s dreamy eyes. 
“I’ve always wanted to see snow and ice, too. 
It has been one of my great desires.” 

“You must come East with me, some day,” 
declared Marceil. “ I’d like to show a Cali¬ 
fornian that little old Massachusetts has a right 
to show off, too,” she added, with a mischievous 
twinkle. 

“ But I really should love to spend a winter 
in New England,” Florence insisted, earnestly. 
“ It must be beautiful. I want to see those ‘ long, 
sparkling aisles of steel-stemmed trees,’ and the 


MARCEIL’S CHRISTMAS 117 

% 

i ice-fern leaf/ and the ‘ nodding bulrush tops— 
hung thickly with diamond drops.* ” 

“ It is beautiful/* said Marceil softly. u Lowell 
doesn’t exaggerate in the least. I*d like to show 
you a New England Christmas, with snowflakes 
in the air, falling against the window-pane, and 
spluttering down the chimney onto the fire.** 
Florence sifted the warm sand through her 
fingers and looked out over the shining Pacific, 
trying to grasp the vision that gave to Marceil’s 
eyes that wistful, far-away look. 

The Eastern girl was very quiet during the rest 
of the day. Early after luncheon, she went to 
her room to write letters home, and when four 
o’clock brought the evening mail, she still failed 
to make her appearance downstairs. 

“ Two letters for Marss, and one to both of us 
from Betty,” Florence answered, when her 
mother asked what mail there was. She hesi¬ 
tated to disturb Marceil, but Betty’s letter was 
too tempting. She ran upstairs and tapped 
lightly on the door of the guest chamber. 

“ Come in,” called Marceil. 

Florence found her still gazing dreamily over 
the treetops. “ Two letters for you, Marss, and 
one for both of us, from B. Arclift.” 


n8 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

“You open Betty’s, while I glance through 
these.” Marceil could not conceal the eagerness 
with which she took the two letters postmarked 
Boston. 

Several moments of silence were interrupted 
when Florence jumped up to exclaim, “ Excuse 
me, Marss, but you’ll love this. It’s all about a 
big snowstorm, and coasting, and the skating- 
carnival they’re going to have at Donner Lake 
on New Year’s Day. You skate, of course? Oh, 
but you’ll miss it, won’t you? You won’t be go¬ 
ing up until the eighth.” 

Marceil took the note without replying. Flor¬ 
ence watched her face glow with eager excite¬ 
ment as she read. It was not until then that she 
discovered that Marceil’s eyelids were red, and 
instantly, she understood. Marceil was suffering 
from a desperate siege of homesickness, brought 
on by their recent talk. Sunny skies and waving 
palm-fronds had just now lost their charm for 
her. She was craving a sparkling white land¬ 
scape, and icicles, and falling snowflakes. 

Florence scowled. She knew how terrible was 
the scourge of homesickness. And Marceil was 
three thousand miles from home! 

“ I can’t take her home,” the perplexed hostess 


MARC El US CHRISTMAS 


119 


reasoned, “ but I can do the next best thing. 
Marceil,” she began, with sympathetic earnest¬ 
ness. “ You can see that Betty is all aquiver to 
get you up there, though she’s too polite to ask 
you to shorten your stay with me. And I can see 
that you are not so terribly anxious to pick roses 
on Christmas Day. Tell me, would you rather 
spend Christmas up in the snow, with Betty? ” 

Marceil looked up startled, and began a polite 
protest; but she knew that Florence understood 
too well for that. “ You’re a dear! ” she cried, 
her eyes filling. “And I’m a horrid, mean, un¬ 
grateful guest.” 

“ Don’t talk that way, silly. It was my fault 
to let you get homesick, anyway.” 

And so, instead of gathering oranges and roses 
on Christmas morning, Marceil Adams exultingly 
tramped through three feet of snow, and came in 
to dinner at the Arclifts, quite ready to believe 
that it was Christmas, despite the fact that she 
had been swimming in the Pacific only three 
days before. And that was her California Christ¬ 


mas. 




CHAPTER X 

A VISIT TO VIOLA 

Viola and lier mother met Florence at the 
Los Angeles station one day early in the Xew 
Year and, greeting her warmly, consigned her 
baggage to a deferential chauffeur who led them 
through the crowd of tourists, noisy taxi men, 
and newsboys. A luxurious limousine awaited 
them, and Florence sank back among the cush¬ 
ions with a sigh of delight. 

As they glided away, almost noiselessly, Mrs. 
Carson turned toward Florence. “And so you 
are Dr. Essex’s little girl,” she smiled. “ Isn’t 
he the surgeon who had charge of the X hospital 
in France? Of course! I knew he must be. My 
Ted was at the X for several long months. He 
was wounded several times,” she added, obviously 
proud of the fact, now that all the suffering and 
anxiety were over. “ Everybody loved and hon¬ 
ored Dr. Essex.” 

Florence was pleased to find this link between 
them. She was still a little awed by the wealth 
of the Carsons. Ted Carson, of the Carsons had 


120 


A VISIT TO VIOLA 


121 


been tended, perhaps his life had been saved, by 
her own father! Her heart grew warm at the 
thought that the debt was not all on her side. 

“ Ted would never speak of the times he was 
wounded,” explained Viola. “ That’s probably 
the reason he never asked about Dr. Essex. And 
of course, during the war, he was just Lieutenant 
Carson. Your father would not remember him.” 

“Just Lieutenant Carson—with all those 
medals and citations! ” echoed Florence mock¬ 
ingly. 

She could not have said anything which would 
have better pleased her hostesses. Both beamed 
proudly as Viola answered, “ But he did not get 
all those at once, you know.” 

The car turned into a park-like enclosure and 
rolled up the long drive to the Carson mansion, a 
veritable palace of marble, overlooking the city 
and the distant harbor. Florence contemplated 
it with silent admiration. She gathered an im¬ 
pression of terraced gardens filled with bril¬ 
liantly colored flowers, lawns stretching far over 
the smooth slopes, palm-trees, fountains, and 
clear pools. They entered through a massive 
antique door, which swung open noiselessly. But¬ 
lers and maids seemed to spring up everywhere, 


122 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


and, in a short time, had taken possession of 
baggage and wraps, and had piloted the visitor 
over mossy-carpeted stairs to the guest chamber. 

Almost before she was aware of it, Florence 
found herself in the daintiest of rose-draped 
boudoirs, and the neat little maid closed the door 
with a respectful “Eef you will be in need of 
anyzing, please press ze bell, and I shall come.” 

Florence went about touching things curiously, 
—the heavy silk and lace bedspread, the sheer, 
cobwebby curtains that were such a striking con¬ 
trast to the velvet drapes. She picked up a gold- 
backed brush and ran it over her hair, then laid 
it down again to look at it, gleaming there among 
all the pretty toilet articles and cut-glass per¬ 
fume bottles. She tiptoed over to the window 
and gazed out over the lovely gardens, the lawns, 
and plashing fountains. 

“ Such gorgeousness! ” she whispered. u What¬ 
ever makes Yiola want to leave it to live in an 
apartment in Berkeley? Oh, how wonderful it 
must be to be rich! ” 

Dinner was an elaborate affair which quite set 
Florence at her ease concerning the appropriate¬ 
ness of her emerald-green dress. Nothing was 
too formal here. She was glad that Yiola had 


A VISIT TO VIOLA 


123 

never seen the green dress. Viola never wore the 
same evening gown twice. 

Ted and his father were present, and also a 
young man evidently quite at home among the 
Carsons. His name was familiar to Florence. 
The Aldemeres were almost as well known in 
Los Angeles as the Carsons themselves. 

Mr. Carson was a pompous, rather absorbed 
man-of-affairs whose solemn silence was a dis¬ 
couraging pall on conversation, despite the brave 
attempts of Viola and her mother to lighten the 
atmosphere with small talk. Dinner proceeded 
from course to course with a sombreness that was 
accentuated rather than dispelled by the fault¬ 
less waiters, the gleaming napery, cut-glass, and 
silverware. Florence was beginning to grow un¬ 
easy. She turned to Ted with the naive question: 

“ Won’t you tell us about your flight through 
Central Africa? You promised me you would, 
you know.” 

Instantly all eyes were turned toward Ted. 
One or two of the diners gave Florence a frankly 
grateful smile, for not every one always met with 
the success which she did when Ted unhesi- 
tantly complied with her request. Even the 
taciturn elder Carson forgot himself and his af- 


124 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


fairs and put in an occasional question, to spur 
along tlie story of tropical Africa and super¬ 
stitious natives. From this, Ted drifted to bits 
of folk-lore and tribal customs, and it was with 
obvious reluctance that the women retired to the 
drawing-room and left him to finish his narration 
over cigars and coffee with the men. 

After dinner there was bridge and dancing, 
and Mr. Carson, now quite drawn out of his shell, 
delighted them all with selections on the pipe- 
organ. 

Just before retiring, Florence stood at Viola’s 
door saying her good-nights. 

“Would you like to see my gowns?” asked 
Viola in a confidential tone. a Just came to¬ 
day.” 

What girl ever refuses an invitation to look at 
pretty things? For a half-hour, Florence stood 
and reveled in ethereal chiffons, rich velvets, 
rainbow-tinted silks and satins. Whatever did 
Viola do with so many evening frocks? WTiat 
happened to them after they had been worn the 
traditional once? 

“ What shall you wear to our dance, to-morrow 
night? ” queried Viola, frowning absently over a 
bouffant robe de style of coral pink chiffon-velvet. 


A VISIT TO VIOLA 


125 

Florence flushed. She hated to tell Viola that 
her emerald frock was all she had, save a little 
silk dress or two that wouldn’t do half so well. 
But Viola was going on. 

“Because, if you haven’t set your heart on 
any special frock of yours, I wish you’d wear this 
coral one. It is not very becoming to me—I’m 
too dark for it—and, well, to tell you the truth, 
it seems just made for you, Florence. Will you 
wear it? You ought to wear more pink, dear. 
With your fair hair and 'skin, you’d be a love 
in it.” 

Would she wear it! Florence’s protests were 
so half-hearted that Viola laughed gleefully, and 
replied by calling Camille to help Florence try 
on the gown. It was a trifle too long, but that 
was easily remedied. The fitted bodice needed 
no alteration, and the full skirt of the rich ma¬ 
terial fell to the floor in graceful folds which 
brought out the exquisite lights and shadows of 
the velvet. 

“ You look as though you’d just stepped out 
of a Watteau painting, dear,” Viola triumphed. 
“ Truly, you must wear it. Yes, I know that you 
always wear the short-skirted, girlish things, but 
a robe de style is vastly becoming to you, too! 


126 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


And no matter how styles come and go, it will 
always be correct for those who can wear it.” 

There was little hesitation after that. The 
mirrored vision of herself, her flushing cheeks 
competing with the rich color of the gown, was 
argument enough in itself. When Florence went 
to her room, she still wore the coral velvet, and 
Camille followed, carrying the emerald ruffles. 

When the maid had left, Florence took the 
box containing the lovely gown, and laid it on a 
chair beside her bed where she could reach out 
and feel its soft folds, while she wondered how 
it must feel to be able to buy all the pretty things 
one wanted, regardless of expense. 

Next morning, when she woke, she found her 
bath ready, and every detail of her dressing at¬ 
tended to. It was pleasant to be waited on, to 
have every want anticipated and attended to be¬ 
fore she raised a hand. Again she wondered 
why Viola ever left home, and how Ted Carson 
managed to feel at home in the wilds of Africa 
after a life of such sumptuous ease. 

Later, when Ted and Viola were piloting her 
about the house and gardens, showing her their 
treasures, she could not help voicing her thought. 
“ I can’t see why you ever leave home,” she 



“YOU LOOK AS THOUGH YOU'D JUST STEPPED OUT OF A 
Watteau painting .”—Page 125. 











A VISIT TO VIOLA 


127 


sighed, as they turned from a marble swimming 
pool to enjoy a short canoe ride over the artificial 
lake at the bottom of the hill. “ Why, you have 
everything, everything! ” 

“ Oh no, not quite everything,” Ted smiled. 
u You’d find that out, if you lived here very 
long.” He glanced at his sister, who nodded un- 
derstandingly, but Florence did not understand 
at all. To be discontented in a place like this! 
It did not seem possible. 

Viola had shown her dresses to Florence with 
a matter-of-fact air of indifference, but she dis¬ 
played an obvious pride in the Carson horses. 
No need to ask what was Viola’s favorite diver¬ 
sion. They took a ride into the hills that very 
afternoon, Viola on her Lightning, and Florence 
on her Snow Queen. 

On the homeward gallop the breeze dislodged 
Florence’s hat, and, with only a backward glance, 
she let it sail away on the wind. Her hair began 
to loosen and tumble down, but she was bound 
not to interrupt this splendid gallop. She came 
dashing down the Carson drive on her beautiful 
mount, her hair streaming in the wind, her eyes 
and cheeks aglow with health and the joy of be¬ 
ing alive. A young man rose from a marble seat 


128 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

in the garden and came forward to help her dis¬ 
mount. 

“ Florence, this is Mr. Wimbleton,” Viola 
smiled, drawing rein beside them, “ Miss Essex, 
Mr. Wimbleton.” Viola’s eyes were twinkling. 
“ Flo dear, you see what an impression you and 
your dashing white steed have made on Louis? 
He’s going home and paint a picture of you, right 
now. I can see it in his eyes.” 

Florence looked up into the pale, almost ef¬ 
feminate face, crowned with hair as blond and 
curly as her own. He reminded her of the pic¬ 
tures she had seen of Shelley; his eyes had that 
same far-away, unworldly look. A man must be 
an artist, or a poet, to look like that. 

“ You paint? ” she queried interestedly. 

The artist nodded. “ Viola is right,” he added 
earnestly. “ I was thinking what a picture you 
and your white horse would make, had I the tal¬ 
ent to put it on canvas. If I were at all success¬ 
ful at portraits, I should ask your, permission 
to try.” 

Florence was a little disconcerted by his 
frankly admiring stare, and yet there was noth¬ 
ing bold about his glance. He might have re¬ 
garded a sunset, or a lovely landscape, with the 


A VISIT TO VIOLA 


129 


same dispassionate gaze. His very earnestness 
seemed to take the absurdity out of his effeminate 
graces and poetic expressions. Yet, how differ¬ 
ent he was from boyish Rob, or energetic Ted! 

That night Florence • wore the coral velvet 
gown, her only ornaments a single strand of 
pearls and a dainty French corsage. With Ca¬ 
mille’s help, she had piled her lustrous hair in 
waves atop her head, with ringlets hanging loose 
in back, approved colonial style. Viola ex¬ 
claimed happily, and repeated “ I told you so! ” 
half a dozen times before she proudly led her 
young guest to the hall below to stand beside her 
in the receiving line. 

It was a lovely memory, that night at the Car- 
son reception. Florence had more partners than 
she could accommodate; she found herself split¬ 
ting her dances that she might have an oppor¬ 
tunity to know and talk with as many as possible 
of these interesting friends of Viola. Ted Car- 
son claimed his due as host, but Louis Wimble- 
ton stood off from the crowd to enjoy the gay pic¬ 
ture with his beauty-loving eyes; he danced with 
no one but his hostess and the guest of honor. 

That night, Florence went to sleep with her 


1 3 o HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

fingers resting lovingly on tlie folds of the coral 
gown, and girl-like, began to build dreams, in 
wbicb a manly face, scarred by experience, flitted 
beside a smiling, boyisb one wbicb resembled 
Betty’s. 

Tbe velvet gown was put in Florence’s trunk, 
but not without a great deal of argument and 
protest on ber part. 

“ Don’t talk about it any more,” Viola said 
petulantly. u If you don’t take it, I shall give 
it to one of tbe servants to make sofa cushions 
out of. Now be a dear, and stop arguing. You 
just put it on, and let your mother see you in 
it, and she won’t have a word to say. There’s a 
love; now let’s forget it and go for a drive. I’ve 
a dreadful headache.” 

Florence never did find out just how Viola 
persuaded Mrs. Essex to accept the expensive 
gift, but she was not surprised. Viola could be 
wheedling in the most charming way. She came 
out of the room after her conference with Mrs. 
Essex, smiling triumphantly, despite the evident 
fact that there had been some discussion. 

“ The dress is yours, Florence,” she announced 
calmly, “ and I want to tell you that your mother 


A VISIT TO VIOLA 


131 

is one of the loveliest women I have ever 
met.” 

Viola frankly enjoyed her week-end with the 
Essexes, and, when at the end of her stay, she 
was recalling the informal joys of her visit with 
the summary exclamation, “ What an ideal way 
to live! ” she said it with such hearty sincerity 
that it set Florence to wondering. She, too, had 
thought her home life in Santa Barbara “an 
ideal way to live,” but her visit to the luxurious 
villa of the Carsons had bred doubts and aroused 
longings for heretofore unthought-of things. 
Viola’s hint of discontent perplexed her more 
than ever. 


CHAPTER XI 


SPRING TERM 

Two Freshmen rose early the first Monday of 
spring term, tired though they were after the pre¬ 
vious day’s journey, and hurried down to the 
campus to he first among the “ old students ” 
registering. 

“ Doesn’t that phrase elevate your self-re¬ 
spect? ” Betty inquired proudly. “ And isn’t it 
good to see all these new Freshmen running 
around as helpless as we were last semester? ” 

“Here! We don’t allow infants to talk like 
that,” warned Jerry, coming up. “ Remember 
that you are just learning to walk yourself, and 
that these helpless victims of your scorn will 
have the same class numerals as you! ” 

Betty subsided while Jerry walked away, but 
she looked at her orange registration card with 
satisfaction. “ Just the same, I’m glad that we 
haven’t blue cards any more. We might be 
Seniors, for all the color of our cards will tell the 
world.” 

“ It does make one feel something like an old- 
timer,” laughed Florence. “Here come Louise 

132 


SPRING TERM 


133 


and some of the Alpha Sophomores.” She smiled 
as they turned away from the registration desk 
and hurried toward the gymnasium. 

“ Who is that with Shirley? ” Betty asked. 

“ The dark one is her cousin. Didn’t you meet 
her? She stayed at the House last night. I 
think that she and the other Freshman are pro¬ 
spective pledges.” 

“ Then we’ll meet them at dinner to-night. 
Are you dreading the mock-initiation, Flo? I 
am.” 

“ Not—not much,” Florence faltered. “ I sup¬ 
pose it will be fun.” 

“ Not for us.” Betty was emphatically skep¬ 
tical. 

“ Well, they won’t kill us,” Florence remarked, 
with doubtful optimism. “ Let’s go over to the 
glade and sign up for Partheneia.” 

“ Me! Partheneia! ” Betty’s meaning was un¬ 
mistakable, without the assistance of grammar. 

“ What makes you think you can’t dance? ” 
Florence challenged. “ You have never tried. I 
haven’t had much pageantry work either, but I’m 
sure we both have as good a chance as some of 
those that are crowding around the tables.” 

Betty opportunely remembered a scolding from 


134 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


the upperclass contingent of the house, relative 
to representation in activities as well as in schol¬ 
arship, and waited very quietly while Florence 
allowed her fancy to picture the colorful pag¬ 
eants that had taken place among the oaks in 
Faculty Glade. 

“ It is just the place for dryads and fairies 
to frolic,” she commented dreamily. “ Betty, 
you, with your nixie brown face, would make a 
cunning dryad. Miss Wendall says there are 
to be twenty-five of them.” 

“ The cow that we met on the Big C trail had 
a nice brown face, too,” Betty observed candidly, 
but she signed up, nevertheless. 

“ Only one solo,” a young lady beside them re¬ 
marked. “ I suppose the famous Lucille will get 
that. She’s been studying with Alkoff for several 
years now.” 

“ I think she means Lucille Dova,” Florence 
conjectured, as she and Betty strolled away. “ I 
do hope she gets it. You know her, don’t you? 
That lovely blonde Senior, with the straight, 
bobbed hair? I’ve always wanted to see her 
dance.” 

They had reached the athletic field and joined 
the crowd at the bulletin-boards, to contemplate 


SPRING TERM 


135 

a bewildering array of sports lists—canoeing, 
tennis, fencing, swimming, baseball, riding,— 
how was one to choose? They both signed for 
an impossible program of sports, laughingly in¬ 
forming the manager that they would begin elim¬ 
inating as soon as their study schedules were 
definitely arranged. 

The work and play of spring term soon began 
in earnest. There were long hours of laboratory 
work, relieved by a period on the athletic field 
or in the swimming pool; there were early morn¬ 
ing risings, to finish a paper that was due or 
to memorize an oral report; there were busy com¬ 
mittees on decoration for the “ Freshie Glee,” or 
some formal occasion at the House; there were 
costume jinxes and carnivals. 

“ If we’re this busy as Freshmen, what will it 
be like when we are Seniors? ” wondered Flor¬ 
ence, as she and Betty dashed after a Lake Mer¬ 
ritt car full of middy-clad girls. 

“ We ought to be used to it by then,” laughed 
Betty. “ You’re not getting tired of canoeing, 
are you?” she added, after they had wedged 
themselves into the only available space on the 


car. 


136 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

“ Tired of it! Why, I wouldn’t miss it for 
anything. Look, Betty, I believe that’s Sadie 
Erna ahead of us. She’s wearing a middy, too. 
Do you suppose she’s out for canoeing? ” 

Betty glanced ahead. “ It looks like it,” she 
said. “ I wonder how she manages to have the 
time. She is always in such a rush.” 

“ Her Senior Advisor probably persuaded her 
to try a little play as well as work. I’m glad. 
Sadie gets so little fun out of life, it seems.” 

They watched Sadie that evening on the lake, 
and marveled at her dexterous stroke. It was 
evident that Sadie took her canoeing as she did 
everything else in life—with the utmost serious¬ 
ness. 

“ Look at her! ” exclaimed Florence. “ She 
sends her canoe through the water straight as an 
arrow. I wonder—you know, Betty,—I think 
there’s something tine about that girl—if she’d 
only give herself a chance. Look! Did you ever 
see such a quick and graceful turn? She’ll pad¬ 
dle in the regatta, or I’m very much mistaken.” 

“ She wouldn’t, even if she had the chance,” 
Betty observed, and hastily changed the subject. 
“ I wish the Sophs could come the same day as 
we,” she sighed. “ Wouldn’t you like to race 



SPRING TERM 


137 

Marceil Adams, Flo? They say she’s the swift¬ 
est stroke of the whole squad.” 

“ She ought to be, after having negotiated the 
roughest rivers in New England,” said Florence. 
“Lake Merritt must seem like a mill-pond to 
her.” 

“It’s pretty choppy here, sometimes,” pro¬ 
tested Betty, glancing up at the clear, February 
sky. “ Wait till May, when the old trade-w T inds 
come sweeping up the estuary. Then you can see 
how much fun it is to paddle in rough water.” 

Florence’s eyes were still following Sadie’s 
swiftly gliding canoe, now far ahead of them. 
“ I believe she’s a better stroke than either of 
us, Betty. Let’s ask her to race us, next time.” 

“ Doubles? Against her single? ” asked Betty, 
astonished. 

“ No, all three paddling single.” 

“All right, but she probably won’t. Milady 
Erna is not the * mixing’ kind. Look at her, 
way off by herself. She didn’t even stop at the 
coach’s stand.” 

They had no chance to challenge Sadie that 
evening, for she reached the wharf long before 
they did, and was probably well on her way home 
by the time that they boarded a Berkeley-bound 


i 3 8 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

trolley. Florence was determined, however, and 
she puzzled deeply over her engagements for the 
next canoeing day, willing to sacrifice most any¬ 
thing for the sake of drawing Sadie Erna into 
closer relationship with her colleagues, and really 
anxious, besides, to try her mettle against Sadie’s 
skilful stroke. 

But there was something else to think about, 
that week-end. On Friday, the Freshmen neo¬ 
phytes of Gamma Zeta had just finished a stren¬ 
uous day of initiation trials. Having risen early 
and served tray breakfasts to all the upperclass¬ 
men in the house, and having been at the beck 
and call of their sisters for every other conceiv¬ 
able service during the day, they felt that they 
now deserved a rest, and dinner. Florence, who 
had been especially conspicuous with her long 
hair flying like that of a ten-year-old, was eager 
to get it dressed comfortably before dinner. 

“ Oh, you haven’t finished yet, children,” called 
Shirley Graham, mistress of ceremonies. “ Betty 
may go and make herself presentable, as she is 
to wait on table for our sorority neighbor across 
the street, but Florence,—just a minute, please.” 

Florence stifled a weary sigh, and stood wait¬ 
ing to see what was to happen next. 


SPRING TERM 


139 

“Here,” said Shirley, stepping out from the 
group of solemn upperclassmen, “ with this fifty- 
cent-piece between you and starvation, you are 
being sent out into ‘ the cruel, cold world/ ” she 
shook her head impressively, “ in quest of ad¬ 
venture. Knowing your admiration for people 
who achieve adventures out of the ordinary, we 
hereby command you to fare forth and produce 
one yourself—in three hours! Be back at eight 
o’clock sharp, to undergo the tortures we have 
devised to test your endurance.” 

There was an ominous silence at the end of this 
speech, although a smile lurked on more than 
one face as Florence glanced longingly toward 
the dining-room, and slowly turned away. As 
soon as she had closed the door, they ran to the 
window in a merry group, and watched her stroll 
down the street. 

“ Poor kiddie, she does look tired and hungry,” 
observed Shirley. “ I feel so heartless! ” 

“ But she has fifty cents,” Jerry argued. “ She 
won’t starve, and she can rest while she’s eat¬ 
ing.” 

They turned their attention to Betty, who was 
solemnly instructed to don cap and apron and to 
run across the street to offer her services as 


140 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

waitress. They giggled as she sped across in the 
conspicuous uniform and was promptly admitted 
to the forewarned sorority neighbor. 

“ Well let the other Freshmen wait on us” 
Jerry suggested. “Now we must worry away, 
the time until Flo and Betty come back and tell 
us all about it. Lou, let’s work on Economics, 
I haven’t even started my paper.” 

“You haven’t! Mine was finished long ago. 
Don’t you realize that they are due on Monday? ” 

“ ’Deed I do, but I have been racking my brain 
for weeks, and I can’t think of a subject on which 
I can get any first-hand information.” 

“ You had better get busy then,” Louise ad¬ 
vised. “ It took me two days to visit the places 
I wrote about;—and three thousand words isn’t 
what you would call a short paper, Jerry.” 

“ Oh, that part doesn’t worry me. The words 
will come fast enough, if only I can think of a 
subject. Oh me! My quest has been ten times 
as hard as Florence’s.” 

She went upstairs, still groaning, and Louise 
found her in her room, an hour later, with a full 
fountain pen poised helplessly over a blank sheet 
of paper. 

“ No inspiration yet, Jerry? ” 


SPRING TERM 


141 

“ Not a thing, and I’ve thought until my head 
aches. Oh, that gong is a welcome sound! Per¬ 
haps my brain will work better after I’ve had 
some nourishment.” 

Betty came in at seven o’clock, obviously try¬ 
ing to conceal smiles of happiness. The girls 
coming out of the dining-room were perplexed. 
Had those Alpha girls gone and given her a good 
time instead of treating her with the “ con¬ 
tempt” due an initiate? 

“ Tell us about it, you traitor! ” they com¬ 
manded. 

“ It wasn’t all pleasant,” the accused promptly 
assured them. “ They had about a thousand 
courses.” 

“More or less,” modified Jerry. 

“ And they were so covered with fancy sauces 
and decorations that I didn’t know what half of 
them were, or when they should be served. No¬ 
body enlightened me, either. The girls were as 
solemn and snobbish as peacocks, until I brought 
in some kind of baked oysters for dessert. That 
was too much for them. They all laughed, and 
acted quite natural after that. Really, it had 
been like an inquest. Well, after they had made 


142 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


me pass around the biggest crockery bowl in the 
house for a finger-bowl, they began to treat me 
wonderfully. One took my cap, and another my 
apron, and they sat me down at a cleared table 
and showed me how to serve that banquet. All 
twenty of them waited on me. I don’t know 
everything I ate, but it was all so good! And I 
felt like a princess with those twenty girls all at 
my service. Too bad you didn’t send Florence. 
She would have been too flustered to eat a thing, 
but I had a lovely time! ” 

Shirley was not to have her plans so disre¬ 
spected. She quieted Betty’s exuberance with a 
solemn, “ Don’t appear too happy, child. For 
every smile you indulge in now, you’ll shed a 
tear or two, to-night! ” 

The other girls pulled their faces into decorous 
lines as Jerry sombrely added, “ This is a very 
solemn occasion, Sister Arclift.” 

The clock chimed eight, and every neophyte 
was back, save one. There was still no sign of 
Florence. 

“ You don’t suppose that anything could have 
happened to her?” Euth Lincoln worried, half 
an hour later. “ She is so conscientious that she 


SPRING TERM 


143 

would surely make every effort to be back here 
on time.” 

“ Perhaps, like Betty, she found such an in¬ 
teresting time that she forgot all about having 
to be back.” 

“No, Florence would not forget, especially 
after all the warnings we gave her.” 

“ Perhaps she is still searching for an adven¬ 
ture.” 

In spite of their light-heartedness, a wave of 
anxiety began to sweep over the girls when, at 
quarter to nine, the recruit was still absent. 
Something might have happened. At Mrs. Pres¬ 
ton’s request, two girls went out to see if they 
could determine anything of her whereabouts. 
They returned thirty minutes later with “ Rob 
Arclift saw her coming out of ‘ The Varsity/ ” 
as their only piece of news. This was of no par¬ 
ticular help, and every member of the House as¬ 
sembled in a worried group in the living-room. 

“ What had we better do? ” They turned to¬ 
ward Mrs. Preston, who was trying her best to 
hide her own uneasiness. 

“ Telephone the police,” suggested Betty seri¬ 
ously, thus eliciting a nervous giggle. “ How can 
you laugh? ” she inquired with tearful reproach, 


144 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


“ when you know that Florence is lost, or 
drowned, or something? ” 

Jeanette put a comforting arm about her and 
said, smiling confidently, “ I don’t think we 
should allow ourselves to become so upset. It’s 
likely that she is detained for some trivial reason, 
and will bob up in her usual fashion, any min¬ 
ute now.” That was reassuring, but it did not 
entirely dispel the uneasiness. 

“ Let’s wait another fifteen minutes,” the 
house-mother suggested quietly. “ If she isn’t 
here by that time—we—we must make some 
definite effort to find out where she went.” 

“We might call up the Emergency Hospital 
and ask if there has been any accident.” This 
suggestion from Betty caused even the most 
sanguine countenances to pale. 

“ Did she wear a coat? ” some one abruptly 
inquired. “It is getting quite chilly, and she 
had on a thin, silk dress.” 

“I don’t think she did wear a coat,” Betty 
answered. “ Wait a minute, I’ll run up and see 
if one of her coats is missing.” 

Most of the other girls, for want of something 
better to do, straggled after her. Betty stopped 
short before the open door of her room, while 




SPRING TERM 


*45 

the others crowded impatiently upon her to look 
over her shoulder. 

“ Florence! You perfectly ridiculous! ” they 
heard her exclaim in hysterical relief, and they 
shoved her into the room, in their own eagerness 
to enter. 


CHAPTER XII 


IN QUEST OF ADVENTURE 

Their eyes beheld a sight which mis ridiculous 
when contrasted with the pictures they had been 
trying to shove out of their worried minds. In 
the centre of the bed sat Florence, her wind¬ 
blown hair and rosy cheeks testifying to the fact 
that she had just come in. From her shoulders 
to her slippered feet, she was one mass of— 
kittens! The furry balls clawed at her collar, 
they played with her hair and bit her ears, they 
fought in her lap, they climbed over her feet,— 
black, white, spotted,—all the miscellaneous 
varieties of kittenhood. 

“Aren’t they dear?” she inquired innocently, 
holding up one of the chubbiest for inspection. 

“ Florence Essex! ” Betty began to scold, but 
it ended in a burst of relieved laughter. 

“ Where on earth did you get them? ” 

“ What are you going to do with them? ” 

“ Where have you been all this time? ” 

“What happened? ” 

The rest of the girls had been attracted to the 

146 


IN QUEST OF ADVENTURE 147 

scene by this time, and the questions tumbled 
over each other. 

“ They are my adventure,” Florence replied 
calmly. “ I thought I would have a chance to 
steal up here and put ribbons on their necks be¬ 
fore showing them to you, but you’ve gone and 
spoiled it all. It doesn’t matter much, though,” 
she sighed, regarding a much chewed and tattered 
bit of pink ribbon. “ They don’t appreciate my 
efforts to beautify them.” 

“ But what are you going to do with them? ” 

“ Where have you been? ” 

“Where did you get them?” The volley be¬ 
gan again. 

“ One at a time, please! As for what I’m go¬ 
ing to do with them,—don’t you think they would 
be nice pets to have about the house? ” This, 
with the utmost seriousness. 

“ You absurd child! ” Mother Preston sat 
down, after a vain attempt to embrace any part 
of Florence that was not covered with kittens. 
“Do tell us about it,” she requested gently. 
“We have been worried.” 

“ Beally? I’m so sorry!” exclaimed the cul¬ 
prit sincerely, “but you will forgive me, won’t 
you? I couldn’t help it, you know.” 



148 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

“ After we’ve heard your story,” Shirley con¬ 
ceded, resuming her dictatorial manner. 

Florence settled herself comfortably among 
the girls and kittens. “ I went out to find an 
adventure,” she began. 

“ And came back with several,” interrupted a 
Sophomore, who was promptly subdued by a 
Senior near by. 

“I sallied forth,” Florence resumed in tradi¬ 
tional style, “ into the unknown wilds of Berke¬ 
ley, and kept my eyes open, but there was ne’er 
a sign of adventure. I met several ordinary¬ 
looking students, plodding home from the li¬ 
brary, and also some ordinary-looking profes¬ 
sors, plotting more burdens for the weary stu¬ 
dents. In fact, the campus and the general 
atmosphere were as ordinary as ever. I was 
getting a little discouraged, but I was very 
hungry, so decided to dispose of at least part of 
that fifty cents before proceeding further. 

“The ‘Varsity’ was so crowded that I came 
out without having eaten anything. Just as I 
was contemplating 6 The Sandwich Shop,’ I heard 
a voice. Lo! There was Adventure calling me! ” 
She paused dramatically, but was prodded until 
she hastily resumed her narrative. 


IN QUEST OF ADVENTURE 149 

“ Adventure! There lie was, in the form of a 
shabby little boy about ten years old. He had 
wistful brown eyes that you just couldn’t resist, 
and so I asked him what he wanted. 

“‘Kin I do any errands for ya, Ma’am?’ he 
asked me very politely. ‘ I gotta get fifty cents 
afore dinner time.’ 

“ My unappeased appetite, and the fact that 
I couldn’t think of any errand for him to do 
caused me to answer a heartless ‘ Ko, I’m afraid 
not,’ but his disappointment brought about an 
immediate change of heart. I told him that I 
didn’t know of anything he could do for me, and 
asked him if he had anything to sell. 

“ He scuffed the sidewalk a minute with a shoe 
that could very ill afford such treatment. 
‘ Yes’m,’ he finally said. 1 Wanna come and see 
what I have to sell? ’ 

“1 was for following Adventure, as you know, 
and so I told him to lead the way. He certainly 
did fly, and I kept up with him as best I could. 
He told me that his name was Jakie Something- 
or-other-that-I-can’t-pronounce.” 

“ That’s a good name! ” Another Sophomore 
was disciplined by a Senior close by. 

“ He further explained,” the narrator went on. 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


150 

“ that his mother had given him fifty cents for 
provisions, that morning, that he had lost it, and 
hadn’t dared to go home without replacing it.” 

“ And the poor little fellow had been running 
around all day trying to earn a half-dollar? ” 

“ Yes,” Florence nodded. “ That made me 
forget that I was hungry. Well, after we had 
walked for miles, Jakie brought me to a queer 
little narrow street where all the houses were 
exactly alike. They resembled a double row of 
boxes with windows and doors cut in them,—a 
factory settlement, I guess. 

“ Jakie was very nervous as we entered one of 
the boxes. He signaled me to be very quiet as 
I followed him down a tiny, dark hallway. He 
stopped at a door and cautiously opened it, then 
stepped into the room boldly, telling me to 6 come 
right along in/ his 6 maw ? wasn’t home from the 
factory yet. 

u You should have seen that kitchen. It was 
the dirtiest I have ever seen. There were soiled 
clothes over everything, heaps of trash on the 
chairs and in the corners, soot on the one tiny 
window.” 

At this point, several listeners gingerly 
dropped the kittens that they had petted to sleep, 


IN QUEST OF ADVENTURE 151 

and edged away from the narrator. Florence’s 
eyes twinkled. 

“ Jakie brought a nice clean basket from some¬ 
where outside, and it was filled with-” 

“ Adventures,” supplied Ruth. 

“ Yes, lively ones,” agreed Florence, vainly 
trying to remove one of them from the back of 
her neck. 

“ The poor little things were all pining for 
liberty, and—to make a long story short—I 
yielded to Jakie’s evident desire to get me out 
of the house before his mother should come back, 
paid the fifty cents, and started to depart with 
my purchase when Mrs.—Mrs. Unpronounceable 
came in. 

“ The first thing she saw was me,—I mean the 
first person she saw was I. She looked puz¬ 
zled, and stood wondering whether or not she 
had stepped into the wrong box, but finally reas¬ 
sured herself by studying the way her chairs 
were draped.” 

“ What was she like?” Jerry interrupted. 

u She was short and dark, with black, stringy 
hair. Her eyes were large and would have been 
beautiful except for an expression of almost 
cynical hopelessness. Well—about the time that 



152 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


she decided that she was in her own box, I de¬ 
cided that I had better be starting home. I left 
Jakie to explain my presence and departed. It 
was as dark and gloomy as a graveyard at mid¬ 
night. There were factories on every side, and 
dark, narrow alleys. Not until a great big be- 
whiskered foreigner stopped to stare at me, did 
I realize that I had no carfare. I began to run, 
but before I had proceeded very far, one of those 
precious kittens fell out of the basket. I couldn’t 
let the little thing wander friendless in the 
streets, so of course I had to stop and catch him. 
That took about fifteen minutes. 

“ Everything went peacefully until one furry 
head managed to pop the cover off, and then I 
had to scramble after three animals. It was like 
that all the way home,” she sighed, amidst the 
laughter that followed the vision of Florence 
frantically trying to run in every direction at 
once, after the scurrying kittens. 

“But the saddest part is yet to come,” she 
murmured solemnly. “I dropped the whole 
basket, just as I was passing the Hiawatha Club, 
—and all the boys were out on the front porch! ” 
Uproar. “They very gallantly helped me to 
rescue them all—the kittens, I mean-” 



IN QUEST OF ADVENTURE 153 

“ The kittens helped you to rescue the boys? ” 
from a facetious Junior. 

“ The boys helped me rescue the kittens,” 
Florence elucidated carefully, “all except one, 
and he was the fluffiest, brownest, prettiest kitty 
in the lot. Mark Hendrix said he was going to 
keep him for a football mascot, because he looks 
a little like a Golden Bear! ” More shouts. 
“ He did keep him, too, and informed me with 
the utmost seriousness that he was going to bring 
up that kitten to think that he was a bear. 
Think of that! ” 

“You got rid of one, anyway,” Shirley man¬ 
aged to say, after the mirth had died down. 
“ What are you going to do with the rest of the 
creatures? ” 

“ Give them to me,” suggested Sidney Cart¬ 
wright. “ I can use them in the Zoology Labora¬ 
tory.” 

At this, the adventurer hastily gathered every 
sprawling bit into her protecting arms. “No, 
no, no! ” she objected energetically. 

“ Of course not,” Mrs. Preston comforted. 
Florence was looking really alarmed. “I sug¬ 
gest that you give one to each of the girls who 
would like to send him home, or to some friend.” 



154 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

That plan was more appealing to the kitten- 
rescuer. 

“ Now, may I give them some milk? ” she 
pleaded artfully. “ I’m sure they’re hungry.” 

“ And what about yourself! ” With many ex¬ 
clamations of concern, the girls gathered up both 
Florence and the kittens. 

Ten minutes later, she sat at a dining-room 
table heaped with good things, every girl anxious 
to wait on her. The kittens clustered in a furry 
circle on the floor beside her, their tiny tails 
pointed straight up in the air as they lapped up 
a great bowl of milk. 

“ You must visit that place with me to-morrow, 
Flo darling,” said Jerry. “ It is just the inspira¬ 
tion I need for my Economics paper.” 

The girls seemed to vie with one another in 
bestowing superlatives and terms of endearment. 

“ What a very pleasant kind of torture,” Flor¬ 
ence remarked with a roguish smile as the clock 
chimed ten-thirty, and she realized that another 
half-hour would mean “ lights out,” and the end 
of mock-initiation day. 

The effects of Florence’s adventure were far- 
reaching. Jakie’s mother, as a result of the girls’ 


IN QUEST OF ADVENTURE 155 

interest, was installed as caretaker in an apart¬ 
ment house where she promptly demonstrated 
the fact that she could keep house, when she had 
the time. Nine different homes in various parts 
of the state opened their doors to the shelterless 
kittens. 

The girls were as eager as Florence to keep 
“just one,” the only point of debate being the 
question of which one it was to be. As each girl 
had her own opinion, the discussion was becom¬ 
ing hot and animated, when Mrs. Preston tact¬ 
fully suggested that Florence "was the logical per¬ 
son to do the choosing. Even then, they were 
as far from a decision as ever. Florence changed 
her mind so often that they began to fear they 
would have to keep them all, when Mark Hen¬ 
drix abruptly settled the problem by sauntering 
up the walk with his kidnapped mascot cuddled 
contentedly on his shoulder. 

“ Pm making a heart-breaking sacrifice, bring¬ 
ing this little fellow back,” he began, as Flor¬ 
ence laughingly took the bundle of fur into her 
arms, “but our Chinese cook told us he would 
as soon have the devil around. He even threat¬ 
ened to leave us if we didn’t get rid of the cat. 
He is a good cook,” sighed Mark, “ and so I had 


156 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

to make the sacrifice for the sake of some twenty- 
five appetites.” 

“ Thank you so much! You knew that I 
wanted him, didn’t you? ” 

“ Don’t thank me. Thank Ah Yong,” Mark 
evaded. 

The girls clustered around the new arrivals, 
but, although they tried to give Mark his due as 
a peace-bringer and as a prominent football man 
besides, it is to be feared that the fluffy “ Goldie ” 
claimed a greater share of their attention. 

The first day after the true initiation cere¬ 
mony, Florence and Betty hurried to their nine 
o’clock classes, proudly conscious of the fact that 
their pledge badges had been replaced by the 
pearl-studded pin which announced that they 
were members of Gamma Zeta. 

“Aren’t you glad that we can go to House¬ 
meeting, instead of spending our time absorbing 
rules and campus sentiments?” Betty asked. 

Florence nodded. “And we have all those 
beautiful ideals to call our own,” she added. “ I 
shall never forget that lovely ceremony.” 

“ Nor I,” added Betty. “ It was compensation 
for all that we suffered Friday, although you and 


IN QUEST OF ADVENTURE 157 

your frisky kittens saved us the worst of the 
mock-initiation.” 

“ I felt rather guilty to disappoint the girls 
that way, but Shirley told me not to worry, as 
she had not had time to arrange a very original 
program, anyway.” 

“ I’m sure that they derived more amusement 
from those dear, silly little animals than they 
would ever have from us,” Betty observed, and 
they laughed in reminiscence of the uproar that 
had continued until the last kitten, excepting 
Goldie, had been sent off. 


CHAPTER XIII 


PARTHENEIA 

“ What’s the matter, Flo?” Marceil asked, 
taking a seat beside her in the Physiology lecture- 
room. “ What are you cogitating about so 
deeply? ” 

“ I was just trying to figure out how to ar¬ 
range a Partheneia tryout and canoeing. They 
both come at the same time. I suppose you 
would advise me to drop Partheneia.” 

u Xot to-day,” Marceil answered without 
hesitation. u It is too windy for canoeing, and 
it is getting ready to rain, besides. Methinks 
that that damsel in front, with the new spring 
bonnet, is going to come to grief before the day 
is over.” 

As Marceil prophesied, the weather made a 

choice unnecessary, for that day, at least, and 

Florence, anxious to continue both activities as 

long as possible, was glad that the weather 

proved so accommodating. The gymnasium was 

filled with talkative, excited girls when she and 

Betty arrived there, just in time to escape the 

downpour which Marceil had predicted. 

158 


PART HEN El A 


159 


“ Roll-call is in tlie main gym. Hurry and 
get into your suits,” called a committee girl. 

“ Now that you have had a little folk-dancing, 
don’t you feel more confident? ” asked Florence, 
pulling a pair of ballet slippers from her locker. 

“Not much,” Betty responded in discourag¬ 
ing tones. “ I’m no fairy like you, Flo. Remem¬ 
ber the hard time Miss Wendall had with me 
and the polka step? ” 

“ But you learned it, just the same. I don’t 
think the tryouts will be hard.” 

“Easy enough for a willowy blonde, but a 
scrubby thing like me will last about five minutes 
in these elimination contests. You don’t realize 
all I am doing for your sweet sake,” Betty ended 
ruefully, as she entered her dressing-room. 

They both found that they could last much 
longer than five minutes, even while the painful 
elimination process was going on all around 
them. It was fun, proceeding from a simple 
step to a more complicated one. A feeling of 
triumph accompanied the successful completion 
of each. At the end of the tryout, Miss Wendall 
read the names of the successful competitors. 
Arclift and Essex headed the list. 

“To think that I survived the whole pre- 


160 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

liminary! ” Betty boasted with humorous bra¬ 
vado. “ Aren’t you proud of me, Flo? I can see 
that there is no doubt as to your fate. You are 
destined to stay on to the bitter end. I’ll keep 
you company for a minute or two of the next 
competition.” 

The second day proved to be more exciting 
than the first. The elimination of one hundred 
girls left the floor less crowded, and, here and 
there, a group diligently practised arabesques 
and pas de basques, while others talked ner¬ 
vously or tapped the floor with slippered feet. 
Each girl wore an expression of anxiety or of 
increased hopefulness, according to the indi¬ 
vidual temperament. 

“ This is my Waterloo,” declared Betty with 
cheerful conviction. “ Florence, when you see 
one of the judges give me a friendly tap on the 
shoulder, you can smile au revovr. I’ll run home 
and save you some dinner.” 

“ I’m afraid I’ll not get any dinner, if I depend 
on that. Besides, I’m just as likely to be going 
home early, myself! ” 

The “ friendly taps on the shoulder ” were less 
frequent, this time. Only occasionally did a girl 
leave her place on the floor, one grinning cheer- 


PARTHENEIA 161 

fully, in spite of her defeat, another wearing a 
look of hurt disappointment. 

“ I was so busy feeling sorry for that red- 
haired girl that I forgot all about myself,’’ de¬ 
clared Betty, after they had managed to live 
through the second tryout. 

“ Some girls do seem hurt when they are 
eliminated,” Florence mused, “ and I suppose 
that the longer you survive, the greater the dis¬ 
appointment is. Still, it’s fun, isn’t it? ” 

This sort of “ fun ” continued for three weeks, 
each time the girls becoming more fearful that 
the next tryout would be their last. So it was 
with a mixture of hope and anxiety that they, at 
length, greeted Miss Wendall’s announcement. 

“ There will be no more eliminations after to¬ 
day. The class hour from now on will be devoted 
to placing you in your appropriate groups, and 
practising the dances themselves.” 

The strains of the waltz from “ Faust ” filled 
the room, and a group of twenty girls formed on 
the floor and began to glide about. 

u One waltz step, and arabesque,” Miss Wen- 
dall called, and the resultant execution by these 
selected dancers was a not ungraceful sight. 

“ That is Lucille Dova, the one that kicks the 


162 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

back of her head,” Florence whispered, during a 
rest. “ She has on toe-slippers, too.” 

“It’s evident,” Betty said, critically, “she is 
going to lose her chance at the solo, if she dis¬ 
plays too many Russian acrobatics.” 

Betty’s feeling was reflected in Florence. She 
found herself a little disappointed in Lucille, not 
because she was not a gifted dancer, but because 
Lucille was showing poor taste in her elabora¬ 
tion of every simple step. She was displaying 
technical skill at the expense of art. 

“ She is lovely, too, and just the type for the 
solo,” her Freshman admirer reflected. “ I do 
hope she won’t go and spoil her chance! ” 

The music began again. The judges strolled 
about in the usual businesslike manner, keeping 
every member of that swaying group in suspense, 
and causing (as Florence afterwards expressed 
it) “extreme palpitation of the heart” when¬ 
ever they drew near. 

At a signal from Miss Wendall, the music 
changed to a rollicking, tripping tempo, and the 
girls made a parallel change in their movements. 
Florence could not resist the spirit of the joyous 
rhythm, and she leaped and skipped about in 
happy abandon. She forgot about the critical 


\ 


PART HEN El A 


163 

eyes upon her, and gave herself up to the intoxi¬ 
cation of movement that the rippling music in¬ 
spired. It was, therefore, somewhat of a shock 
to be stopped, even by the sympathetically smil¬ 
ing Miss Wendall. Half dazed, Florence listened 
to the words, “You may go now, Miss Essex. 
Come to my office at three on Friday.” 

Wonderingly, she left the room, catching a 
glimpse of Betty’s nonplused face as she sped 

by- 

“ Eliminated! And on the very last day, too! ” 
her thoughts ran, as she dressed hurriedly. She 
had believed that she would not care, but she did 
care. “ I was so happy, and I was having such 
a good time! I wish she hadn’t stopped me right 
in the middle of the music.” 

She forced back the tears that tried to come, 
and when she greeted Betty, half an hour later, 
she was able to smile courageously. 

“ Congratulations, Betty! I just knew that 
you were fated to become a cunning little dryad. 
Didn’t I tell you? ” 

But Betty’s face wore a thundercloud expres¬ 
sion quite unappropriate to one in a congratula¬ 
tory position. “ Flo, don’t! There must be some 
mistake! Or else Miss Wendall has gone out of 


164 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

her head. !No sane person would eliminate you, 
and keep me on.” 

“ Oh, Fm just like the rest, and c must go when 
my time comes/ ” Florence quoted absurdly. 

“But I don’t understand,” persisted Betty. 
“ Did she give any reason for not passing you? 
Maybe your type doesn’t suit any part, or some¬ 
thing like that.” 

“ It’s dear of you to be so concerned,” Flor¬ 
ence said appreciatively. “ Don’t bother think¬ 
ing of it any more. I’ll find out what was the 
matter when I go to see her, Friday.” 

“ She had better have a mighty good reason, or 
I’ll never forgive her,” vowed Betty. 

The news of Florence’s elimination was re¬ 
ceived with incredulous cries by her sorority sis¬ 
ters, who had firm faith in her ability. 

“ But it is true! ” Florence repeated for the 
tenth time, hoping that they would stop talking 
about it once they were convinced. “ Ask Betty.” 

Betty tragically assured them that it was so. 
Miss Wendall herself had asked Florence to leave 
the floor, and she was the chief judge. 

“And she is a dancer, and knows what she 
wants,—or rather, what she doesn’t want! ” 
With this declaration, Florence hushed the storm 



PAR THEN El A 165 

of protest that rose against her much admired 
instructor. 

“ Anyhow, it means that you won’t have to give 
up canoeing,” Marceil exulted. “ Practice races 
from now on, too, and you won’t have to miss 
the best part of the fun.” 

\ 

“ From what I hear, you may have a chance to 
paddle 19— to victory in the spring regatta,” 
Sidney added. “ A little more strength on that 
speed stroke, Florence, and you’re going to sur¬ 
prise them all! ” 

“And Florence,” Ruth Lincoln called, “both 
Rob Arclift and Mark Hendrix called up to in¬ 
vite you to the Prytanean f$te. Rob called first,” 
she added, twinkling. 

With these and many more cheery “ don’t you 
cares,” the girls of the House comforted their 
disappointed sister and made her happy again. 
An d there was that race with Sadie to look for¬ 
ward to! Yes, spring was bound to bring 
showers, but there was plenty of sunshine, too! 


t 


CHAPTER XIV 
A DAY OF TRIUMPHS 

It began with the morning mail which brought 
to Florence two letters, one from Louis Wimble- 
ton, telling of a successful exhibition of his paint¬ 
ings, another from Ted Carson, who had just won 
a long-sought commission to South America. 

“ You are not the only one who got some mail,” 
a flippant voice called from the stairway. “ Do 
you know what has happened to our Shirley Gra¬ 
ham? She is hiding, but she needn’t think that 
I’m going to let her keep the good news all to 
herself,” Jerry finished. 

“What, did she get a love letter?” Florence 
returned, with equal flippancy. 

“Oh, nothing so common as that; she gets 
stacks of those. Guess again.” 

“ Do tell us,” begged Florence. “ I hate to be 
kept in suspense.” 

“An invitation to join the San Francisco 
Symphony,” Betty hazarded. 

“ Xo, though I shouldn’t be surprised if that 
would be forthcoming, too, one of these days.” 

166 


A DAY OF TRIUMPHS 167 

“ Tell ns! ” demanded Betty, poising a volume 
of Tennyson, threateningly. 

“ Lay down your arms. I surrender! ” cried 
Jerry dramatically, but she paused until the 
volume of Tennyson became poised again. 

“ Shirley Graham has just proved to the world 
that it is possible to be a wonderful musician 
and a first-class University student, at the same 
time.” 

“ But how? ” 

“ By being elected to Phi Beta Kappa, national 
scholastic honor society,” Jerry announced im¬ 
pressively. 

“ Our Shirley! ” exclaimed Florence happily. 

“ Yes, our Shirley,—eminent scholar and mu¬ 
sician—as the papers of the future will say.” 

" Let’s go up and find her, Flo.” The two 
Freshmen disappeared up the stairs. 

“ Shirley Graham, what do you mean by hid¬ 
ing your Phi Beta brain behind your fiddle all 
this time? ” Betty demanded, as soon as they 
entered the room. 

“ Especially when these practical people like 
Betty think it impossible to be anything sensible, 
if you are artistic,” added Florence mischie¬ 
vously. 


168 HAIL , CALIFORNIA/ 

Shirley laughed. “ That’s one reason I am 
happy about it. So many people think I am just 
wasting my time at college.” 

Five other girls bounced into the room, and 
Shirley was compelled to undergo more bearish 
congratulations. “An extra special spread for 
you to-night, young lady,” House-Manager Sid¬ 
ney Cartwright announced, as though she were 
delivering a life sentence. 

“ And an impromptu party after dinner,” 
added the chairman of the social committee. 
“ I ? ll telephone the Lambda boys to come over 
and help.” 

“ Now children, leave her in peace. I want to 
talk to her,” ordered Ruth Lincoln, who already 
wore the Phi Beta Kappa key. 

“ In pieces, you mean,” giggled Shirley’s 
Freshman cousin, one of the newest Gamma Zeta 
pledges, as they reluctantly left the room. Con¬ 
gratulations were renewed at lunch time, when 
the girls, whom Shirley had managed to elude 
thus far, pounced upon her. 

“Now you must let me alone just a minute, 
please,” she begged, when they followed her to 
the living-room after lunch. “ One of the girls 
in my English class has a poem in the 6 Scribbler,’ 


A DAY OF TRIUMPHS 169 

and I want to read it before I see ber this after¬ 
noon.” She picked up the magazine and opened 

it. 

“What’s this?” darting an accusing look in 
Jerry’s direction. That young lady tried to es¬ 
cape, but she was firmly held by Florence on one 
side, and by Louise on the other. “ I’m not the 
only one to be congratulated,” Shirley continued, 
in a relieved tone. “ Look at this, if you please! ” 
She held up the book, opened to the first page 
on which shone the title—“ Gray Mist,” a story, 
“ by Geraldine W. Fay.” 

The scramble this time was in Jerry’s direc¬ 
tion, and the girls beheld the most unusual sight 
of that particular Sophomore flushed, and very 
much embarrassed. 

“ To-day has been so full of pleasant sur¬ 
prises,” sighed Florence, hurrying to keep her 
three o’clock appointment with Miss Wendall, 
“and here am I on my way to find out why I 
was a failure.” 

At the office door she hesitated. “ I’d almost 
rather not know,” she told herself, and stood for 
a moment debating whether or not to knock. 
“ If only she hadn’t asked me to come! ” Re¬ 
luctant to have the continual good news of the 



170 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


day spoiled by being reminded of her own disap¬ 
pointment, she was strongly tempted to turn 
away, when Miss Wendall came across the gym¬ 
nasium floor. 

“ Oh, I’m sorry! Have you been waiting long, 
Miss Essex? ” she called pleasantly. 

“ Not at all,” Florence assured her, following 
the instructor into her office. “ Miss Wendall,” 
she began impulsively, “ I’ve had so much good 
news to-day, you aren’t going to spoil it, are 
you? I’d just as soon not know why I failed.” 

“ Why you failed! What do you mean? ” 

“ Partheneia, you know you told me to come 
and see you. I thought maybe you were going 
to tell me why I was eliminated.” 

A wave of comprehension passed over Miss 
Wendall’s face, and, to Florence’s amazement, 
she threw back her head and laughed merrily. 
“You poor dear, did you think you were elim¬ 
inated? ” she asked, laying a sympathetic hand 
on her pupil’s. 

“Of course! Isn’t it so?” Florence’s aston¬ 
ishment was good to see. 

“No-o-o! It was stupid of me to give you 
that impression. I see how it happened, though. 
Don’t you know, dear,” she asked, with a twinkle 


A DAY OF TRIUMPHS 171 

of amusement, “ that we don’t usually bother ex¬ 
plaining matters to eliminated people? We are 
heartless enough to let them draw their own con¬ 
clusions.—And you thought you had failed?” 
There was only sincere apology in her tone this 
time. “ I am sorry. You must have been dread¬ 
fully disappointed. That’s too bad, and yet it 
is amusing, too. But it is all right now, because 
you know that you are not eliminated.” She 
paused to smile at Florence’s expression. 

Florence was still certain that there must be 
some mistake. “ I—I don’t understand! ” she 
gasped. 

“ Evidently! ” laughed Miss Wendall. “ Well, 
I’ll tell you. I made up my mind about you long 
ago, but feared that the girls would think it un¬ 
fair if you didn’t go through all the tryouts as 
they did. Besides, the dramatic coach was at 
the last tryout, and I wanted him to agree with 
me as to the final selection of dancers. I had 
already placed you, mentally, and so, the minute 
that he was convinced that you were the one for 
this particular part, I stopped you. I thought 
that, inasmuch as it was the final, I could do you 
the kindness of letting you go home early, with¬ 
out arousing ill feeling in the other competitors. 


i 7 2 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

You didn’t appreciate my good intentions, did 
you? ” she laughed. 

“ I’m truly sorry that I didn’t.” 

“ You couldn’t very well, when you didn’t even 
suspect them. Now, as to your part. There is 
only one logical place for you in this year’s 
pageant, and that is in the role of Happiness. 
Coach Engle and I promptly agreed that you 
were just made for that part.” 

Florence’s eyes flew wide open. “ But isn’t 
that the solo ? ” 

“ Yes.” Miss Wendall was regarding the 
manuscript. “ It is the only solo this year —‘ a 
dance of natural, spontaneous abandon,’ ” she 
read. “We played a little trick on you all, in¬ 
troducing the Happiness music directly after the 
slow, legato movement. We wanted to see how 
it would affect each individual. Without a hint 
as to what I thought, I waited for Coach Engle’s 
decision. c There’s the girl we want,’ he said, 
nodding toward you. 6 There is not another in 
the room who so thoroughly gets the spirit of 
that music.’ ” 

“And that is when you stopped me? You 
were saying all those nice things when I thought 
you were being sorry for me! ” 


A BAY OF TRIUMPHS 


173 


“ We certainly did not think that our prospec¬ 
tive 6 Happiness ’ went away to mourn! ” laughed 
Miss Wendall. 

“ But there are so many wonderful trained 
dancers, Miss Wendall.” Florence protested, re¬ 
calling the skill displayed by many of the girls. 
“ What about Lucille Dova? ” 

“ Lucille is fine,” agreed Miss Wendall, “ but 
only in a certain type of dance—the Russian bal¬ 
let, in which she has been trained all her life. 
She is not at all the one to do a solo of this 
kind, where so much depends upon dramatic ex¬ 
pression and natural, untechnical grace.” She 
spoke in as matter-of-fact a tone as she would 
have used in discussing the weather, or anything 
equally obvious. There was no hint of an at¬ 
tempt to be flattering, or even complimentary. 
“ Your friend, Miss Arclift, is to be a little nixie 
dryad.” 

“ I just knew she would be,” exulted Florence. 

“ Now that I have told you all the ‘ bad’ news 
I can think of,” Miss Wendall finished, dimpling, 
“ I must run to a conference. If you will stay 
after class next time, you may hear your music, 
and we’ll compose the dance together.” 

Florence was so exuberant that she could 



174 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

scarcely restrain herself from doing a dance of 
joyous abandon all the way home, and, when she 
finally bounced into her room, Betty immediately 
wanted to know if the prospect of going to 
Prytanean with Rob was “as thrilling as all 
that.” 

“ I just heard some good news! ” Florence 
cried. 

“After all that we have had to-day? What 
now? ” 

“ My turn, this time,” declared Florence. 
“ Betty, Pm not eliminated, after all.” 

“Didn’t I tell you that there was some mis¬ 
take?” 

“ I’m to do the solo! ” sang Florence, execut¬ 
ing an impromptu one around the room. 

Betty was as pleased as she. “ The only one 
in this year’s Partheneia! ” she thrilled. “ This 
house will just burst with pride if anything else 
happens. Do stand still and tell me about it.” 
She caught the careening figure and pulled her 
down into a chair. 

Florence described her interview with Miss 
Wendall in such a manner that she sent Betty 
off into fits of laughter. “I can just imagine 
the facial expressions you registered this after- 


A DAY OF TRIUMPHS 


i7S 


noon! It’s too good to keep. Come on, you must 
have your share of the congratulations that are 
being scattered about.” 

The spread and impromptu dance honored not 
one, but four, of Gamma Zeta’s active chapter, 
for Florence had circulated the news of Betty’s 
success, too. 

“ The end of a perfect day,” her partner said 
gallantly, as he bade her good-night. “ This has 
been a red-letter day for your House, hasn’t it? ” 

“ Just one wonderful thing after another,” 
Florence smiled, “ a day of triumphs.” 


CHAPTER XV 


A PROBLEM 

Every possible free bour found Florence in tbe 
gymnasium, enthusiastically practising all tbe 
steps which would fit the rhythm of the Happi¬ 
ness music and, at the same time, express its 
spirit. 

“ It is going along very nicely,” commented 
Miss Wendall one day, when Florence dropped 
into a chair to rest. “ Is it because you are so 
perpetually happy that you put so much expres¬ 
sion into it? ” 

“ Perhaps,” laughed the soloist, “ but all those 
skippy notes just make you want to dance as 
though you were enjoying life. Still,” she pon¬ 
dered seriously, “ I don’t think I could do so well 
if I were unhappy or worried.” 

“ Then see that you don’t become unhappy or 
worried before Partheneia,” cautioned Miss Wen¬ 
dall brightly, “though I hope you won’t start 
after that, either.” 

“ I won’t ever,” Florence promised recklessly, 
skipping out to her dressing-room for a hurried 

shower before dashing for the Lake Merritt car. 

176 


A PROBLEM 


177 


a Here comes another middy/’ rejoiced one of 
the carful of lake-bound girls. “We ought to 
have nearly enough for a practice regatta to¬ 
night.” 

“ No,” protested another, “ that takes all the 
excitement out of the real one.” 

“ How does it, when we don’t yet know who is 
going to paddle in the real event? ” 

That was the question that was agitating more 
than one of those middy-clad girls. Who were to 
be the fortunate ones to paddle in the colorful 
spring water-pageant and races? Freshmen 
were eagerly looking forward to the opportunity 
of winning their class numerals; older girls who 
had already won several sets of numerals secretly 
longed for the little golden paddle which would 
designate them one of the “ All Star ” team, or 
for a number of points which might lead to the 
privilege of wearing a beautiful block C. For 
Florence, however, the chief reason for wanting 
to “ make the team ” was the privilege of enjoy¬ 
ing the sport that she had loved for so long a 
time. She was human enough to like the honor 
of being among the chosen few, but that part 
of it would never supersede the joy of doing the 
thing itself. 


178 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

She sang, as she plied her paddle through the 
waters of Lake Merritt that evening. “ Hail to 
California, Alma Mater dear! ” the buoyant 
young voice rang out while she drank in the 
beauty of sun-flushed sky and gold-tinted cloud¬ 
banks. The canoes which cut through the glow¬ 
ing water were all headed toward the landing. 
Reluctantly, she dropped her paddle and, with 
a longing glance out over the expanse of lake, 
allowed her craft to glide shoreward. 

“ Sadie’s gone again,” she sighed, “ and still I 
don’t know which of us is the better paddler. It 
is so lovely, I hate to go in,” she called to the 
coach. 

“ We all do,” smiled Miss Bentley. “ You have 
worked hard enough for one evening,” she added. 
“ Your stroke is becoming quite sturdy, Miss 
Essex.” 

“ I love it. Isn’t it glorious on the lake at 
this time of day? ” breathed the enthusiast, step¬ 
ping out onto the dock. 

“ You are still fresh and exuberant after all 
your exertions. Don’t you ever get tired? ” 

“Not of canoeing,” Florence laughed, as she 
ran toward the cloak-room of the boat-house. “ I 
do feel unusually buoyant to-night,” she confided 


A PROBLEM 


179 


to the mirror. “Wonder if it is a sign that 
something especially nice is going to hap¬ 
pen? ” 

She was hurriedly hunting her books, among 
the scattered piles, when her attention was ar¬ 
rested by the sound of her name; some one on 
the other side of the partition was talking about 
her. Without a moment’s hesitation she stepped 
into full view of the conversants, one of whom 
she recognized as the manager. “ It is a draw 
between Florence Essex and Sadie Erna for the 
Freshman single,” she had said, and she only 
smiled when she realized that Florence had 
heard. 

Florence returned her nod of recognition and 
hurried out, her mind awhirl. If only she hadn’t 
heard! She wanted the honor, she wanted to win 
it fairly,—and yet—Sadie had so little. It 
seemed unfair even to try to compete against her 
for the coveted privilege of paddling Freshman 
single. What a wonderful thing it would be for 
Sadie! Florence knew that their chances were 
about equal, but the prospect of her own success 
suddenly lost its brightness. 

“Of course, I may not win; but suppose I 
should! Sadie would dislike me more than 


i8o HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

ever—and, well, she has worked hard. I think 
I should really prefer to let her have it. After 
all, I have Partheneia and other activities. Sadie 
hasn’t—anything. I do want to paddle in the re¬ 
gatta, but—O—if it were any one but Sadie!—I 
wonder if it would be fair to cut practice, just 
once? Then it would surely go to her. I would 
be automatically dropped from the eligible list.” 
Her chaotic thoughts ended in a sigh of utter 
perplexity. 

As was usually the case on canoeing nights, 
the girls were at dinner when she arrived home. 
Their merry voices floated out to her from the 
dining-room as she passed. She ran quietly up¬ 
stairs and flung herself on the bed, too weary 
and bewildered to think of eating, and finally 
dozed off into a restless sleep. 

It was dark and quiet when she awoke. She 
was still alone, but some one had been in and 
thrown a quilt over her. She sat up, heavy-eyed, 
and recalled the problem which she faced. There 
was a note pinned to her cushion. She rose 
slowly and walked over to pick it up. How still 
the house was! Quiet hours already? Yes, it 
was eight-thirty, but, even so, there should be 
some indication of life,—not even the scraping of 


A PROBLEM 181 

a chair, now, nor the rustle of paper! What was 
the matter? 

She hastily opened the note. It was from 
Betty, and read: 

“ Florence : 

“ We girls have gone to hear the last of 
the c Round the World’ lectures. It is by Nell 
Sutherland, Gamma Zeta alumna. I wanted to 
wake you and take you along, but Mother Pres¬ 
ton wouldn’t let me. You did look so tired! 
If you wake in time, come along. It is in 
Wheeler Auditorium; look for us on the right 
side, and we’ll squeeze you in somehow. 

“ Betty.” 

Florence glanced out into the hall. Sidney 
Cartwright’s door stood open and the light cast a 
cheerful panel across the floor outside her room. 
The Freshman tiptoed over and looked in at Sid¬ 
ney, bent over a ponderous volume on Anatomy. 
“ Awfully busy, Sidney? ” 

“ Yes, awfully,” Sidney answered without 
hesitation, “but if there’s something I can do 

for you in five minutes-” 

“It won’t take one/’ Florence assured her. 
“ I want to ask your august opinion on a ques¬ 
tion of athletics.” 

Sidney looked interested. “ Yes? ” 



HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


182 

“ What would you think of a girl who delib¬ 
erately cut practice in order to give another girl 
a better chance of making the team? ” 

Sidney sank back, surprised, but immediately 
grew pensive. “We-11-1,” she drawled finally, 
“ in one way, it might be considered a very noble, 
unselfish thing to do.” 

Florence looked relieved, but her smile disap¬ 
peared as Sidney went on, “ In another way, 
though, I should consider it a very thoughtless 
thing to do,—particularly if the self-sacrificing 
girl were a sorority member. It would be a ques¬ 
tion of deciding whether her loyalty to her so¬ 
rority were greater or less than her loyalty to 
an individual, for whom she wanted to do a good 
turn. Of course, circumstances might justify it, 
but I hardly think it would be strictly ethical. 
The team privileges and honors should go to the 
better man. No really good sport wants a place 
that is deliberately given up to her by default.” 

Florence thanked Sidney, but went back to 
her room more perplexed than before. She had 
rather enjoyed the thought of sacrificing her own 
chances for Sadie, and now Sidney had reminded 
her that she had Gamma Zeta to think of, too, 
and that it was not “ strictly ethical ” to default 


A PROBLEM 183 

on purpose. “And yet, I just know I sha’n’t 
enjoy the regatta a bit, if I take the place that 
Sadie has set her heart on. I know how I felt 
when I thought I had been eliminated from 
Partheneia, and it would be worse with Sadie, 
who has concentrated all her spare time and ef¬ 
fort on this one thing. O dear! ” 

Florence undressed wearily and went to bed. 
Before the girls had returned from the campus, 
she fell asleep with her problem still unsolved. 

The alarm clock of some early-rising Senior 
woke her at six o’clock next morning. Her head 
ached dully and refused to let her sleep again. 
She rose quietly and stole across the sleeping- 
porch to her room, resolved to wear away her 
headache with a morning ride on Snow Queen. 

It was a cool grey morning, with a tang of 
salt in the breeze that blew in over the Golden 
Gate. Both horse and rider felt the exhilara¬ 
tion and enjoyed a long canter about the hills 
and woods, now resplendent in the fresh green of 
late winter. 

The eight o’clock chimes were ringing when 
they neared the campus again. The road ahead 
was clear, and Florence coaxed her mount into a 
last gallop. She was dashing blithely past 


184 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


Senior Women’s Hall—usually deserted at this 
time of day—when a dark figure appeared out 
of the bushes and scurried across the road di¬ 
rectly in front of them. Overcome with a sud¬ 
den, sickening horror, Florence sharply draw 
rein. Snow Queen shied and stopped with an 
abruptness that sent her rider hurtling over her 
head into the road. 

Florence felt sudden stabs of pain all over 
her body, while her eyes looked out upon a dizzy 
world in which Snow Queen and Sadie Erna’s 
horrified face whirled about until they faded into 
darkness. 

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying 
on a little white cot in the Infirmary, with 
bandages and compresses hindering her when¬ 
ever she tried to move. A nurse bent over her 
and commanded her to lie still. Florence will¬ 
ingly obeyed, for every movement sent a thrill 
of pain shooting to her head. 

“ Sadie,” she murmured anxiously. “ Was 
Sadie hurt? ” 

“No, Sadie is all right. Your horse stopped 
in time, though rather too soon, for you,” she 
added with an attempt at humor. 

“ How long have I been here? ” 


A PROBLEM 


185 

“ About an hour. You will be all right if 
you’ll just rest quietly—no bones hurt, and your 
cuts and bruises will be healed in no time. Try 
to sleep now, and you may have a visitor or two 
this afternoon.” 

But Florence had one more question to ask, 
“ Snow Queen? ” 

The nurse looked puzzled. 

“ My horse? ” 

“ Oh, your horse is all right. They quieted 
her and took her to the stable. Close your eyes 
now. I’m not going to answer a single question 
more.” 

It was the first time in her life that Florence 
had been in a hospital, but she found that “ be¬ 
ing an invalid ” has its compensations, and that 
painful treatments and disagreeable medicines 
can be forgotten, when one has tender and 
solicitous friends and “ sisters ” to cheer one, 
and to bank one’s room with flowers and maga¬ 
zines. Even Sadie, though she did not appear in 
person, sent up a bouquet and a tearful note 
which shocked Florence. Sadie thought that 
Florence believed she had frightened Snow 
Queen deliberately! 

“ But I didn’t! Please believe me, if you can. 


186 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

I know I’ve been hateful, but I wouldn’t do a 
thing like that! I wouldn’t have you hurt for 
anything , let alone for the sake of canoeing 
honors. I have been mean to you, but you 
mustn’t think that of me! ” 

No such idea had even occurred to Florence. 
She had severely blamed herself for indulging in 
a gallop on a road so near the campus, where 
some one might have been crossing at any mo¬ 
ment, just as Sadie had, in her hurry toward her 
Forestry class. Much concerned, Florence imme¬ 
diately answered Sadie’s note, doing her best to 
set the girl’s fears at rest, and begging her to 
come to see her, so that she might reassure her 
in person. 

But Sadie never came to the Infirmary. Flor¬ 
ence understood. She w T ould be too painfully 
self-conscious in the presence of others, and 
there was always some one there. E’ach Visitors’ 
Hour was crowded to the full. Her sorority sis¬ 
ters came, and other friends—Robert Arclift and 
Mark; once Viola had come and brought her 
brother to cheer the patient with the stories that 
she always loved to hear. Suppose Sadie had 
come in, then! Sadie, and the poised, elegant 
Carsons! Florence was glad it did not happen. 


A PROBLEM 


187 

But she was determined to see Sadie, and one 
of her first acts, on the day she was released 
from the Infirmary, was to look up Sadie’s ad¬ 
dress in the directory of students. 

The problem which had troubled her was auto¬ 
matically settled. There was no question of 
ethics, or of disloyalty to Gamma Zeta now. The 
canoeing single would go to Sadie, as Florence 
really wished it to. After all, she had brought 
her share of honor to Gamma Zeta in other ways. 
Had she not achieved the only solo in the Par- 
theneia? Once this visit to Sadie was accom¬ 
plished, the last worry would be removed, and 
there would be nothing to prevent her doing well 
the dance of joyous abandon called “ Happiness.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


GINGHAM AND VELVET 

“What would you do about it, Kitten?” 
Florence stroked tbe sleepy Goldie until be 
emitted a long, contented purr wbicb, tbougb 
pleasant, did not in tbe last belp to solve ber 
problem. “ Ob, to be a fluffy kitten and never 
bave to worry about clothes! ” Florence sigbed. 

She got up, slipped tbe emerald-green dress off 
its banger and beld it against ber, but shook ber 
bead. 

“ It has lost its freshness, and that’s all there 
is to it,” sbe concluded dismally. “Why, ob 
why, didn’t I think about that when I bought 
this recklessly extravagant coat? ” 

Sbe bad squandered most of two months’ al¬ 
lowance on a white wrap trimmed with broad 
bands of snowy fox fur. Even now, as sbe tried 
it on and saw bow well it became ber, sbe hardly 
regretted tbe purchase. Tbe fact that it was a 
beautiful wrap, exactly suited to ber, somehow 
made ber forget tbe inconsistency of not having 
a frock to wear with it. 

188 



GINGHAM AND VELVET 189 

She was looking forward to a the-dansant at 
the Kappa House. No less a person than the 
universally admired Ted Carson was to take her. 
And she had “ not a thing to wear,” if we may he 
permitted a favorite hyperbole among college 
misses. The lovely green dress was already 
showing signs of wear, and the only alterna¬ 
tive—the coral velvet—why, Ted had seen that 
twice before! Besides, everybody was planning 
to have a new gown for this particular dance. 

“ What shall I do? ” she worried over and over, 
and finally sat down to indulge in a fit of dis¬ 
contented musing on the horrid inconvenience 
of being “poor,” and in envy of Viola—who 
ordered evening gowns by the dozen, and never 
wore the same one twice. 

“How nice it must be to have wealth, ’spite 
of what any one says to the contrary! ” she re¬ 
flected. “ Servants to do the disagreeable, prosy 
things, beauty everywhere,—no worry and specu¬ 
lation as to the question of being able to afford 
anything one wanted.” 

But such reflections did not solve the problem 
of a frock for the Kappa dance. Florence felt 
that she was a much-abused citizen of the world 
when she replaced her only two evening gowns 



190 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

and, slipping on a street coat, hustled out to 
make her call on Sadie Erna. 

She found the house, only after some difficulty. 
It was on a narrow, unpretentious street, and 
it was set almost directly back of another house 
facing the same way. Brown-shingled and oddly 
shaped, it reminded Florence of Hawthorne’s 
“ House of the Seven Gables.” It was like Sadie, 
to choose a queer, retired place like this, when 
she might just as easily have earned her board 
and room in the beautiful home of one of the pro¬ 
fessors, blocks nearer the campus. 

A tall, black-gowned woman smilingly ad¬ 
mitted her, but very poorly concealed her sur¬ 
prise when the visitor asked for Miss Erna. 

“ Miss Erna? You mean Sadie? Oh, eh—yes. 
She has her own quarters, up two flights, just 
at the head of the stairs.” 

Florence felt her way slowly up the dark and 
narrow stairway. At the top of the second 
flight she found herself precipitantly entering an 
attic bedroom. Not a sign of a door was there 
to insure its occupant any privacy, should any 
one take a notion to walk up that second flight 
of stairs. But it was probable that Sadie’s 
privacy was seldom disturbed. Florence, em- 


GINGHAM AND VELVET 191 

barrassed and bewildered, stood near the top of 
the stairway, looking toward a tiny figure that 
lay huddled on the bed. How should she an¬ 
nounce her presence? She was vaguely consider¬ 
ing a quick retreat when the figure on the bed 
stirred. Sadie sat up, yawning and rubbing her 
eyes, and began to turn the pages of the book 
beside her. She espied Florence suddenly, and 
her surprise overcame all thoughts of shyness for 
a moment. 

“ Florence Essex! ” she breathed, her eyes 
slowly widening. 

“ Fm sorry if I disturbed you, Sadie. May I 
come in? ” 

“ Oh yes! Please pardon me. I—I was so 

surprised-” Sadie jumped up, smoothed the 

wrinkles out of her dress, and came forward 
shyly. 

“ This isn’t a very wonderful place to receive 
you, but—Miss Edge doesn’t allow me to use the 
parlor. You see—I don’t very often have visi¬ 
tors, anyway.” 

“ Why this is really cosy,” Florence declared, 
surveying the sloping ceiling with the narrow 
cot under the lower end, and the little square 
window near which a table and a dresser crowded 




! 


192 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

close together, as if competing for the light. A 
curtained “ wardrobe ” occupied the last bit of 
available space, and Florence wondered how she 
would dispose of herself as she hesitantly ac¬ 
cepted Sadie’s invitation to “ come in.” 

“ I’m afraid you’ll have to sit on the bed,” 
Sadie apologized. u My only chair is badly dis¬ 
abled.” She pointed to a backless stool whose 
wobbly legs seemed unable to support even its 
own frail weight; and which displayed alarming 
symptoms of falling to pieces. 

Florence sat down, regarding Sadie the while. 
She was catching a glimpse of the real Sadie 
now,—that touch of humor about the chair. 
Sadie could laugh! 

“ This is cosy,” Florence repeated. “ Some¬ 
times I wish I had a little nest like this, all to 
myself.” 

Sadie’s face sobered. “ You don’t have to be 
so polite,” she remarked, a little ungraciously. 
“ It’s only a wretched, drafty attic, and nothing 
will ever make it any different.” 

Florence colored. “ But I meant what I said, 
Sadie. Honestly! If you would hang a curtain, 
or have a door put there at the head of the stairs, 
it would keep out the drafts, and it would make 


GINGHAM AND VELVET 193 

the room more private and homelike, too. Let’s 
try it and see.” 

The little room was unpleasantly chill, and the 
wind blew up the narrow stairway in a con¬ 
tinuous breeze. Florence removed one of the full, 
heavy curtains from the wardrobe and secured its 
pointed hooks in the chancel over the doorway 
which had never known a door. The effect was 
instantly perceptible. Not only was the annoy¬ 
ing draft cut off, but the dark, unfriendly open¬ 
ing w^as covered, giving the little domain an 
atmosphere of “ shut-in-ness ” which was almost 
homelike. 

“ That does make a difference,” conceded 
Sadie, “ but it’ll make the stairway darker than 
a dungeon.” 

“ You can put up a rod, and push the portiere 
open, as you leave the room,” Florence suggested. 
“ Why, Sadie, this could be the duckiest place! 
Do you mind my poking around like this? I love 
to ferret out possibilities—that window, for in¬ 
stance. Wouldn’t it be pretty with sheer net 
curtains and narrow rosy drapes? And you 
could have a braided rug here by the bed. And 
that chair—a little glue and paint would put it 
into shape in no time.” 


194 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

Sadie was smiling queerly. u But those things 
cost money,” she said, as though that dismissed 
the subject. “ I—I got your note,” she broke off 
abruptly. “ Are—are you sure you don’t think 
that I—that I scared your horse on purpose? ” 

“ Of course! No such idea ever entered my 
head!” Florence declared emphatically. “I 
can’t imagine what made you think of such a 
thing, Sadie! ” 

The other girl seemed relieved at her very 
evident sincerity. u Well, I did want the canoe¬ 
ing single, wanted it awfully, but not that 
much! ” 

“ You silly! ” Florence laughed. “ I know you 
didn’t want it, or anything else, bad enough to 
gain it in that way.” 

u But I have been mean,” Sadie went on rue¬ 
fully. “ I’ve deliberately kept you waiting at the 
store when I knew every second was precious, 
I’ve played rough in hockey, just to rattle you— 
I—I guess I don’t need to tell you all I’ve done. 
You’ve probably noticed.” 

Florence was too conscientious to say that she 
hadn’t noticed. She had spent many anxious 
moments wondering why Sadie did those very 
things. But she smiled now. 


GINGHAM AND VELVET 195 

“Why don’t you like me, Sadie?” she asked, 
with irresistible frankness. 

A faint pink stole up into Sadie’s cheeks. 
“ I—do like you,” she stammered, “ but I 
thought I didn’t. Once I thought I hated you, 
not for anything you did—just because—all the 
years I’ve known you, you’ve always had every¬ 
thing, and I’ve had nothing. Your beautiful 
mother, and your wonderful father and brother, 
and your lovely home,—and Snow Queen, and 
pretty clothes, and now—all the best things in 
college. I hated you because you took every¬ 
thing—your sorority, and your friends, every¬ 
thing , so much for granted. I suppose it was 
only jealousy and envy N There was no reason I 
should dislike you, just because you were more 
fortunate than I. But I did, and I’ve been 
miserable for hours, thinking of all you have, and 
of all I’ve never had. I took my resentment out 
on you. It’s only since your accident that I 
stopped to think how unreasonable and foolish 
I’ve been.” 

Florence had listened, wide-eyed, to this re¬ 
cital. Various emotions crossed her mind,— 
relief, surprise, amusement, pity, and an uneasy 
sense of shame when she recalled the afternoon’s 


196 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

rebellious worry over the problem of an evening 
gown for the Kappa Dance. Here was Sadie, 
living in an attic a mile away from the campus, 
who had scarcely any clothes presentable 
enough even for everyday! Florence did some 
rapid thinking as Sadie talked on, bitterly de¬ 
scribing her barren and lonely life, her struggles 
to earn bread and butter and a drafty, attic 
room, as well as the education that was to pave 
the way to better things. 

Florence’s whirling thoughts became less 
chaotic and focussed upon Sadie Erna’s thin lit¬ 
tle face, in which the great grey eyes stood out 
wide and sparkling, rendering her suddenly at¬ 
tractive. 

“ It’s always been that way, though,” Sadie 
ended with a quivering sigh. “ I never have had 
anything. I suppose I never shall! Even when 
an opportunity comes along, I never seem to be 
able to grasp it. That letter on the table—it’s 
from the dean. She wants me to apply for a 
position as companion and guide to a blind 
student who happens to be taking the same sub¬ 
jects as I. It would be wonderful—fifty dollars 
a month just for helping her about the campus 
and reading her lessons for her. I could give up 


GINGHAM AND VELVET 197 

the long hours in the store, I wouldn’t need to 
break my back ironing all day Saturday. Fifty 
dollars a month, why, I’d be rich! But there 
isn’t the slightest chance that I’d get the posi¬ 
tion. So I sha’n’t bother applying.” 

“ Why not? ” Florence demanded. 

Sadie looked at her, and then at her own 
rumpled and faded appearance. She brushed 
aside a stringy lock of hair with a savage gesture. 

“ Her mother would be ashamed to have her 
seen about the campus with me,” she said, in 
tones of helpless resignation. 

Florence did not attempt a polite denial of 
Sadie’s statement, but stood regarding her con¬ 
templatively for a moment or two. 

“ Sadie,” she began at last, “ you ought to get 
over the idea that everybody in the world looks 
down on you. You’re just as good as anybody 
else on the campus—a lot better than most of 
us! And furthermore,” she went on earnestly, 
“you could be attractive and have hosts, of 
friends, if you’d only make up your mind about 
it. Oh, I know you haven’t much time, and you 
work hard, and all that, but you ought to have 
a little fun, too. !N T ow that you’ve had this posi¬ 
tion offered you, things will be easier, anyway.” 


1 


198 HAIL, CALIFORNIA / 

“ I haven’t been offered the position. I was 
only advised to apply for it. Applying for a posi¬ 
tion and getting it are two different things. I 
told you I wasn’t going to apply. What’s the 
use? ” 

Florence’s soft mouth straightened into a thin 
red line, and her little round chin went up de¬ 
terminedly. u You are going to apply, Sadie! 
And, what’s more, you’re going to get the posi¬ 
tion! I wish you’d let me show you how at¬ 
tractive you could be if you’d only give yourself 
a chance.” 

“ What do you mean? ” 

“ Your hair, for instance. It’s quite thick, ex¬ 
cept at the ends. Why don’t you bob it? It 
would be very becoming.—Let me do it now! ” 
she ended enthusiastically. “ I know how. I 
cut Betty’s every time she needs it, so that she 
can save the pennies. Do let me, Sadie. I’d 
love to see you with a straight bob, and bangs 
across the forehead. You’d look like Joan of 
Arc.” 

Florence caught up a pair of shears, and al¬ 
most before Sadie could say a word of either 
protest or acquiescence, she had pulled out the 
hairpins, and let the straight, uneven ends fall 


GINGHAM AND VELVET 199 

down over Sadie’s shoulders. The shears clipped 
busily for a short minute. The uneven, stringy 
ends were off, and Sadie’s anxiety immediately 
disappeared in a sigh of relief. The improve¬ 
ment was already perceptible. Working with 
sedulous care, Florence clipped and trimmed, 
combed and parted, standing off now and then to 
survey results. 

“ There! ” she exclaimed proudly as she fin¬ 
ished. 

Sadie, looking into the mirror, marveled at the 
change. The uneven strands which had fallen 
untidily about her face and neck were gone. 
Glossy bangs covered the too high forehead, and 
a thick fringe of hair fell over her ears and 
curved forward, hiding the hollows of her thin 
cheeks. Her grey eyes looked out from a face 
attractively framed by the hair which had here¬ 
tofore been one of her chief detriments. 

“ And it will be neat, even when you wake up 
in the morning,” exulted Florence. “ Just a 
quick brushing will put it in order for the day. 
If you like, I’ll come over and shampoo it for 
you to-morrow. That will take the 4 just cut’ 
look off the ends, and make it easier to train. 
Now then,—I caught a glimpse of a Russian 


200 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

peasant dress in your wardrobe. Let’s see bow 
it looks. I’ve never seen you wear it.” 

“ That! ” exclaimed Sadie, when Florence in¬ 
dicated a gracefully bloused garment with full, 
gathered sleeves, and shirred, round neck. “ I 
just wear that around the house to save my other 
things. It’s an old, old thing that Lydia Berkholf 
made me, years ago, for helping her with her 
English.” 

“ It’s beautiful! ” exclaimed Florence, examin¬ 
ing the graceful folds and odd embroidery of the 
garment. “ It’s a gem. Put it on, Sadie. Rus¬ 
sian lines are very much the thing, right now.” 

Sadie slipped the dress over her head. Its 
soft blue, and colored embroidery brightened the 
pale face and accentuated the great, grey eyes. 

u I declare, you’re positively distingue,” Flor¬ 
ence enthused, prancing about and gushing like 
a typical modiste. 

“ I do look different,” Sadie remarked wonder- 
ingly. “ I never particularly noticed how pretty 
this dress is. I suppose it’s the hair. Bobbed 
hair seems to fit it, somehow.” 

“ It does, and now a bit of a shine on milady’s 
slippers, and I’d like to know who wouldn’t be 
proud to walk across the campus with her! ” 



The improvement was already perceptible.— Page 199 














GINGHAM AND VELVET 201 


The transformation was finally completed, and 
Sadie, looking into the mirror at herself, could 
feel only gratefulness toward the girl who had 
shown her her possibilities. 

“ I guess I ? ve never troubled myself much 
about looks. Thought it wasn’t any use. Who’d 
ever think it could make such a big difference? ” 

Before Florence had left, the whole scant ward¬ 
robe was gone over. Faded ginghams were set 
aside to be dyed and shortened; out-of-date 
blouses and jabots were cut up and made into 
collar and cuffs for the two dark dresses which 
needed some such brightening touch. 

“ And with fifty dollars a month, I can buy 
shoes and other things I need,” Sadie sparkled. 
“ I’ll not be poor any more.” 

Florence smiled to see how the resigned hope¬ 
lessness had been replaced with naive self-confi¬ 
dence. Sadie Erna was already a changed being. 
The person who said “ Clothes make the man,” 
perhaps never realized that he was voicing a bit 
of sound psychology. 

Early Saturday evening, the telephone at the 
Gamma Zeta House tinkled. Florence, mindful 
of her Freshman duty, stopped half-way upstairs 
and turned back to answer it. Over the wire 


202 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


came Sadie Erna’s voice, vibrant with happy 
excitement. 

“ Is Florence Essex there? ” 

“ This is she. Hello, Sadie! ” 

“ Oh, Florence, I could hardly wait to tell you. 
I applied for that position, and I got it! And 
Martha, the blind girl, is so sweet and lovely. 
We’re fast friends already. College is going to 
be very different for me, from now on. And it 
was you who brought me to my senses. It’s all 
due to you, this good luck! ” 

Florence’s gladness was genuine as she con¬ 
gratulated Sadie. Still smiling, she went up¬ 
stairs to put on the coral gown which was not 
new, and which Ted Carson had seen twice. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE END OF FRESHMAN YEAR 

Faculty Glade was lovelier than ever that 
spring, and it took but little imagination for the 
Partheneia audience to transport itself to the 
realm of dreams, as colorfully portrayed by the 
dancers, one afternoon in late April. Graceful, 
swaying figures in misty grey stole up and wav¬ 
ered until driven away by the bright spirits of 
rosy “ Dawn.” Golden-robed “ Sunbeams ” burst 
through and scattered the last remnant of grey, 
and triumphed at last over the rose and violet 
Dawn spirits. Along the road which symbolized 
Life’s Highway came a maiden, wondering at the 
things which her journey revealed. Dark vi¬ 
sioned Fear glided stealthily before her, until the 
shining spirit of Courage took her by the hand. 
She met Hate in company with Grief, but both 
of them were dispelled by Love, triumphantly 
glowing in raiments of red and orange. She 
stretched forth her hand to touch one of the fiery 
figures when Fame, blue and silvery, interposed 
and tempted her. 


203 


204 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


“ But Fame comes alone,” the maiden sighed. 
“ I seek Happiness and her companions.” 

The spirits of Love encircled her again, join¬ 
ing hands with Joy of Service. They danced to¬ 
gether and called. The turbulent music paused 
for an instant, and then broke forth in a ripple 
of laughter. Vivid against the green foliage came 
a lightly leaping, skipping figure, all in a cloud 
of rosy mist. Like the very essence of happiness 
she seemed, whirling and swaying as if intoxi¬ 
cated with the very joy of being. 

The audience leaned forward. Tired faces 
lifted, drooping mouths curved into smiles, dull 
eyes sparkled with renewed enthusiasm. The 
dance over, the action of the play was going on, 
but a vision of the bright spirit of Happiness 
would haunt the Glade forevermore, for those 
who had looked upon it. 

“ Miss Essex, Florence, you were wonderful,” 
Miss Wendall beamed. “It seemed that you 
were just overflowing with joy, and we who 
watched could not help being drenched with the 
overflow. You made us feel as you did. How did 
you make it so vivid? It was better than any 
rehearsal, better than anything I could have im¬ 
agined.” 


END OF FRESHMAN YEAR 205 

“I am glad, Miss Wendall. I was happy, I 
am happy. I couldn’t help spilling some of it 
about.” 

The teacher laughed. “ You may be sure that 
none of it was wasted.” 

A green and brown woodland dryad appeared 
from behind the screen of foliage, but it was an 
unmistakably human voice which said, “ They 
are clapping their hands black and blue for you, 
Flo! ” 

“ But I’ve had my share,” Florence protested, 
as she was pushed out to receive her applause. 
“ I don’t deserve it,” she affirmed, when she came 
back, after an ovation that would have gladdened 
the heart of a veteran artist. “They thought 
that I was acting, and I wasn’t,—not a bit.” 

It was useless for Florence to try to escape the 
crowd of sincere congratulators that besieged her 
for days afterwards. They stopped her on the 
campus, in the library, in classrooms. Betty 
liked to tell people that it took two hours to 
escort her room-mate half a block, on the day 
of her Partheneia success. 

Florence was too bewildered to realize her 
triumph. She did indulge in a sigh of happy 
satisfaction, but it was not entirely as a result 


206 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

of campus homage and favorable comment from 
dramatic critics. 

“Now that you’re becoming somewhat of a 
campus celebrity/’ yawned Betty, one evening 
as they scuffled out to the sleeping-porch, “ I’ll 
have to develop my talents. Know any con¬ 
venient field where I can practise running a 
tractor? ” 

With the approach of May, University Fresh¬ 
men began to find twenty-four hours a rather 
short time in which to accomplish a day’s work 
and play. There was a hurried effort to do the 
last things well and to finish the year with a 
worth-while record. For the girls, Partheneia 
was only one event. There was the athletic 
Field Day, and the Kegatta. 

As final examinations approached, there was 
a flutter of anticipation among the Seniors. 
Their academic work over early, they began to 
be feted here and there, individually and collect¬ 
ively. 

Florence finished her examinations early, and, 
while the rest of the girls were busy with study- 

i 

ing or with preparations for Commencement sea- 


END OF FRESHMAN YEAR 207 

son, she and Betty would steal off for the walks 
which had been somewhat neglected in the rush 
of study and campus affairs. 

When Betty announced that she would take 
the one-forty-five train for the mountains on 
Thursday, House-Manager Sidney Cartwright 
promptly made arrangements for the last “all 
together ” dinner, an annual custom which al¬ 
ways preceded the first break in the ranks. It 
was the half sad, half jolly affair that such events 
are likely to be, for each girl, under all her gaiety, 
realized that this particular group might never 
be thus assembled again. 

The occasion was characterized by an informal 
discussion of plans, and an interchange of ad¬ 
dresses and promises. It was learned that Buth 
would be the only Senior back for a graduate 
year. She hoped to do some practice teaching in 
preparation for the following year, when she 
would be “on her own,” as she expressed it. 
Shirley, as Jerry had prophesied, was to take 
upon herself the rdle of director of a Bay City 
orchestra composed entirely of women. All the 
undergraduates looked forward to one or more 
years of work and play before they would bid 
their Alma Mater farewell. Even Marceil was 


2o8 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


still determined to receive lier degree from tlie 
University of California. 

Immediately after this last dinner, Betty and 
Florence strolled up in the hills to have a quiet 
half-hour together before the whir of confusion 
and good-bys which would begin on the next 
day. 

“ Why is it that no one takes college students 
seriously?” Florence wondered, as they stood 
looking down on the twinkling lights of the cam¬ 
pus. “ People seem to laugh at our little world, 
as though we were not worth any more serious 
thought than a child playing with his toys.” 

“ Oh, it’s not quite that bad,” Betty protested, 
u but, just the same, all this Commencement talk 
about 6 going out into the world ’ bothers me. 
Any one would think that we were just as shel¬ 
tered here as babes in a cradle, and quite as care¬ 
free and irresponsible.” 

“ I suppose that we—you and I and the other 
students of our status are more sheltered than a 
great many. Think of the blind students who 
grope their way to a Bachelor’s degree, to say 
nothing of some of those very poor ones who 
earn their way by doing the humblest kind of 
manual labor.” 



END OF FRESHMAN YEAR 209 

“ Yes,—there are greater tragedies tlian a con¬ 
dition in one’s major subject,” Betty added, with 
unusual earnestness. 

“But there’s plenty of joy, too. Aren’t you 
glad that we are only Freshmen, and that we 
have three more years of college before us? ” 

“ ’Deed yes! By the way, Flo, have you de¬ 
cided about your major, yet? ” 

“ Not the ghost of an idea,” Florence told her 
ruefully. 

“ Well,” mused Betty, “ if I were you I should 
take Professor Lane’s advice and go in for Jour¬ 
nalism.” 

But Florence did not “ go in for Journalism.” 
What she did choose, eventually, was a surprise 
to herself as well as to everybody else, but, once 
she had decided, she wondered why she had not 
thought of it before. 

It came about in a most unexpected way. The 
Essexes, with Betty and Rob as guests, had spent 
a month motoring about California. They had 
visited old missions in the south, roamed through 
the sea-girt forests of Monterey, climbed high 
into the Sierras and heard first-hand stories of 
“the days of ’49,” had stood in awe among gi- 


210 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


gantic trees that were in their youth before 
Christ was born. 

Florence was always strangely silent whenever 
they traversed some place made memorable by 
the events of long ago. Robert noticed this, and 
loved to show her how to reconstruct the story 
of some deserted Indian camp or ruined mission. 
He hunted about and dug, wherever he could, and 
brought her bits of flint and arrow-heads, occa¬ 
sionally a piece of pottery, and, once, an ancient 
“ devil stick ” wound with woman’s hair. Flor¬ 
ence’s imagination was always fired by these 
things, and she and Robert would talk for hours 
about that past whose story was so legible to 
those who had learned to read it. 

“ History! ” she exclaimed suddenly, as Robert 
finished telling her of an ancient Mexican civili¬ 
zation that antedated the Egyptians. “ I’ve been 
trying to decide what it is that fascinates me so 
everywhere, even in this hot, dusty desert. It’s 
history! It seems so near, somehow, when you 
see these things and think about them.” 

Betty beamed triumphantly. “That settles 
your major question for you, doesn’t it, Flo? ” 

Florence laughed, but finally nodded energetic¬ 
ally. “ It does! ” she exclaimed, much surprised 


END OF FRESHMAN YEAR 211 


and pleased. “ How funny that I never thought 
of it before! But it never attracted me as it does 
this summer. I never thought of it as anything 
but a bothersome confusion of names, dates, and 
maps. Now these things,” she took up the bit of 
pottery and the ancient “ devil stick,”—“ these 
things make it real ” 

Robert looked gratified. “ I was going to sug¬ 
gest History, several times,” he said, “but I 
knew that you’d find it out for yourself.” 

“ Is it what you’re majoring in, Rob? ” 

“ Not exactly. I’m studying Archeology;—but 
History and Archeology are first cousins.” 

Florence’s eyes grew round with awe. “ You 
mean—you’re going to hunt for buried cities and, 
—and things like that?” 

Robert laughed. “ There may not always be 
a whole city to dig for,—but I’ll do my best. 
I’m interested in Arizona and New Mexico, right 
now,” he added sobering. “ That’s where I’ll aim 
for, the minute I graduate.” 

“ That’s where they’re finding the ante- 
Egyptian ruins? ” Florence inquired dreamily, 
“ and yet, there are people who say America has 
no history! ” 



CHAPTER XVIII 


JOLLY SOPHOMORES 

It was with, a great deal of self-conscious pride 
that Betty and Florence went about on the cam¬ 
pus that first day of their Sophomore year, look¬ 
ing upon the newly arrived Freshmen with the 
amused tolerance of the privileged class to which 
they now belonged. What a joy it was to be 
among the “ upperclass ” contingent of the 
House, to be relieved of the prosaic duties which, 
though not arduous in themselves, had branded 
them as neophytes for so long. It was a little 
time before they ceased to jump at the sound of 
the telephone, only to subside blushingly under 
the good-natured taunts of Juniors and Seniors 
who pretended to have forgotten their own early 
Sophomore days. 

During “ rushing ” season, Florence was very 
much occupied with thoughts of Sadie. In the 
few months since that memorable visit, Sadie had 
“ blossomed out ” almost unbelievably. The nor¬ 
mal, fun-loving girl that she was meant to be, 
no longer remained hidden beneath an impene¬ 
trable surface of self-conscious reserve. The dis- 


212 


JOLLY SOPHOMORES 


213 

covery that she could look attractive was the be¬ 
ginning. Then came the opportunity for con¬ 
genial work and the end of financial troubles. 
Recognition among her classmates followed nat¬ 
urally after her success in the spring regatta. 
The poised and smiling Sadie Erna of the Sopho¬ 
more class was scarcely recognizable as the timid, 
whining girl that Sadie had been for so many 
years. 

Florence went to the gabled house early in the 
first week of college, but found that the little 
room was occupied by a temperamental art stu¬ 
dent who, though not lacking funds for a better 
abode, preferred the tiny attic where she could 
boil her coffee over the gas and lunch on crackers 
and sardines, in what was her idea of true Bo¬ 
hemian style. 

“ And you have no idea where I can find Miss 
Erna?” Florence inquired of Miss Edge, as she 
turned away from the house. 

“ No. I have not seen her since she left last 
May. She has become quite independent since 
she was hired by Mrs. Prime. Went to the moun¬ 
tains and worked for her all summer, I under¬ 
stand ;—won’t even consider a half-day’s ironing 
any more.” 


214 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


The little lady seemed quite abused since she 
was deprived of the privilege of treating Sadie 
like a slave, and vented her ire with many similar 
comments and petulant sniffs before Florence 
managed to get away, glad that Sadie could be 
independent, could refuse to consider the hard 
work which had been her portion for too many 
years already. ' 

“What am I to do?” she thought, strolling 
back toward the campus. “ It seems I always 
lose track of some one that I want for Gamma 
Zeta. Last year it was Betty. Now, it’s Sadie.” 
After this came the persistent question — how 
would Sadie impress the other girls? Would 
they see her possibilities as readily as she did? 

Florence understood Sadie’s sensitive nature 
too well to subject her to the humiliation of pos¬ 
sible failure. Better not to “ rush ” her at all, 
than to risk that. Strangely enough, the only 
person whose opinion Florence feared, was Bet¬ 
ty’s. Betty had never liked Sadie. Even after 
the events of the previous spring, Betty could not 
be persuaded to think much of the girl who had 
so often vented an unjust prejudice toward Flor¬ 
ence. 

“ It’s all right to forgive and forget,” Betty de- 


JOLLY SOPHOMORES 


215 

dared, the night after Florence’s visit to the ga¬ 
bled house, “ but I can’t see why you want to 
make her one of us. Isn’t that going a little too 
far? ” 

“ Oh, don’t talk of forgiving,” retorted Flor¬ 
ence. “ Any one would think that she had tried 
to murder me. You don’t understand, Beth. 
Just imagine yourself in the same circumstances 
—no money nor clothes but what you worked 
for, no friends, always afraid to be seen,—no fun, 
—nothing that other girls have,—wouldn’t you 
have become a little bitter? ” 

“ It was her own fault,” Betty answered ob¬ 
stinately. “ There are plenty of poor, hard-work¬ 
ing students who dress neatly, and get some fun 
out of college, too. And they don’t go home and 
whine because all the fraternities on the campus 
are not running after them.” 

“Why, Betty! That sounds horribly snob¬ 
bish.” 

“ I’m not snobbish. Isn’t Elsie Blythe work¬ 
ing her way? And I like her and want her. It 
isn’t because Sadie is poor. It’s, well—she acted 
so queerly toward you; and there really wasn’t 
any excuse for it. I can’t imagine why you want 
her, Flo.” 


216 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

“Well, of course, if you really dislike her, I 
won’t bother to bring her up at all,” Florence 
spoke in an injured tone. “ But I can’t see why 
you don’t like her. She never did anything to 
you. In fact, she likes you. She said once that 
she envied me my wonderful friends, and she 
mentioned you especially.” 

Betty was not appeased. “ And you’re doing 
just what she hoped you would—telling me about 
it. Well, she won’t gain my favor that way.” 

“ Betty! How unfair! I never knew you to 
talk so about any one. It isn’t a bit like you.” 

They were nearer to quarreling than they had 
been in all the years of their friendship. Betty 
did not want to quarrel. 

“Let’s change the subject,” she suggested ab¬ 
ruptly. “Flo, you have a right to rush whom 
you please, and if your noble little self feels 
sorry for Sadie to the extent that you feel it’s 
your duty—why, what business of mine is it? 
Did you decide what History courses you are go¬ 
ing to take? I think the Medieval would be in¬ 
teresting.” 

Florence ignored the digression. “But it is 
your business,” she insisted. “ Amd Betty, it isn’t 
just because I’m sorry for Sadie that I want her. 


JOLLY SOPHOMORES 


217 


I think that being one of ns would help her and 
give her some of the things that she’s missed so 
far; but besides that, I want her for herself. You 
haven’t an idea what a fine girl she really is. I 
think she’d be a credit to us. Sadie Erna is 
going to make a name for herself, one of these 
days.” 

Betty sighed. She was as skeptical as ever 
about Sadie’s good points, but she did not want 
to argue further. “ Maybe I don’t know her well 
enough,” she conceded finally. u Bring her up to 
tea, or to the dance, Saturday. I—I might like 
her better on closer acquaintance. You never 
can tell.” 

Florence smiled and hugged her impulsively. 
“ I know you will, when you understand her bet¬ 
ter. ’Sides, Betty, she’s different from what she 
used to be,—better dressed, more poised,—every¬ 
thing. And she doesn’t think about herself and 
her troubles half so much. You know, just being 
happy and unworried makes a lot of difference 
in a person’s character.” 

“ I—suppose it does,” Betty drawled pensively. 

The very next day they encountered Sadie as 
they were crossing the campus on their way to 
the tennis courts. Betty did not immediately 


2l8 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


recognize the girl whose pale, intellectual face 
was so effectively framed by a Joan-of-Arc hair¬ 
cut, and whose neat little rose-colored frock made 
her look younger and really girlish. There was 
no hesitation or furtive desire to escape evident 
in Sadie’s greeting of Florence. She even 
stopped to talk. 

Betty observed her keenly as they were being 
introduced. She was surprised to find Sadie so 
natural and unassuming. She certainly showed 
no conscious desire to impress them favorably; 
and seemed quite unaware of the fact that Flor¬ 
ence’s eagerness to have her visit them at the 
Chapter House might have any personal signifi¬ 
cance. 

“ That’s very nice of you,” she was saying. 
“ Of course I should love to come, but—would 
some other week do? You see, I can’t very well 
leave Martha this week; we’re both so busy get¬ 
ting settled. I’m with her and her mother, you 
know. We have an apartment on College, not so 
very far from where you live. Martha’s the most 
wonderful girl! You should see the things she 
writes! She’s had a poem published, too—a 
beautiful one, about friendship. And the editor 
who accepted it doesn’t know yet that she’s blind 


JOLLY SOPHOMORES 


219 

and will never see tlie congratulatory letter tliat 
lie wrote.” 

Sadie talked breathlessly. It was obvious that 
sbe loved Martha Prime, and that the blind girl, 
whose sweet face was so familiar to every one on 
the campus, was largely responsible for the 
change in Sadie. 

“ Pm truly glad everything turned out so well 
for you both,” Florence beamed, seeing, as she 
looked into Sadie’s happy face, that the question 
of Sadie and Gamma Zeta was already settled. 
Sadie would never consider sorority membership 
now; her thoughts, her time,—her very self was 
already wrapped up in Martha. What Martha 
could not have, Sadie would also forego. 

“ Any time will be all right, and if you think 
Martha would enjoy it, bring her, too. I know 
she must be very interesting, and the girls would 
love to meet her.” 

Sadie smiled gratefully. “ Thank you. I think 
she would like it, though I don’t often take her 
among people she does not know. But you won’t 
feel distressed and sorry for her, will you? You 
must come and see us, some time. Martha would 
love to know you, I’m sure.” 

They exchanged addresses and telephone num- 


220 


HAIL, CALIFORNIAl 


bers, and said a hasty good-by as Sadie hurried 
away with an anxious glance toward the cam¬ 
panile clock. 

Betty, who had been unusually silent, was 
still pensive as they walked on. “ She is very 
different, isn’t she?” she drawled thought¬ 
fully. 

“ Sadie? Yes, but it’s only because she never 
had a chance before, never even knew how to 
make the best of things. Martha and her mother 
have already done wonders for her.” 

Betty was frowning. “ If she doesn’t come 
over to the House this week, how do you expect 
to bring her up for voting? ” she asked. “ Names 
must be in before midnight, Saturday.” 

“ There would be no use in asking Sadie to 
join us,” said Florence. “ She wouldn’t accept.” 

“ Wouldn’t accept! ” 

“No. Please, Betty, don’t use that tone of 
voice. I know that Sadie was resentful last year, 
but she didn’t crave sorority membership in the 
way that you think she did. She was just hungry 
for friendship and fun, and all the other things 
that we’ve always taken for granted. Now she 
is beginning to have those things, and she has 
some one else depending on her for them, too. 


JOLLY SOPHOMORES 


221 


You see how much she cares for Martha. She 
will never consider anything that doesn’t include 
Martha, too.” 

“ Oh, I see. I should think that would he 
rather hard on Sadie, in some ways; and yet she 
seems happier than ever.” 

“ She is,” nodded Florence, u and I’m so 
glad! ” 

The following Sunday afternoon, Betty and 
Florence strolled along College Avenue to the 
address given them by Sadie. It was a large 
stucco apartment house surrounded by an atmos¬ 
phere of quiet dignity. They walked through a 
carpeted lobby to the elevator. Martha’s apart¬ 
ment was on the top floor, a concession to Sadie, 
who liked the view out over the Golden Gate. 

Sadie, all in white, received them with a shy 
graciousness that had its own peculiar charm, 
and they entered a sunny room where bright rugs 
and cushions, tasteful prints and pictures, lent 
to the cosiness of the place. On a little pedestal 
in the corner stood a marble miniature of a 
dancer poised on tiptoe, and, on one side of the 
entrance, there was a large bust of “A Boman 
Lady.” Other statues and plaques were in evi- 


222 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

dence, wherever an appropriate niche offered it¬ 
self. 

“ Martha’s,” Sadie explained, following Flor¬ 
ence’s glance. " She loves to run her fingers 
over them. Martha knows more about line and 
balance in sculpture than most people who see. 
I’m sorry Mrs. Prime isn’t at home,” she di¬ 
gressed. “ She went to San Francisco, this after¬ 
noon ; but I’ll get Martha. She’s up on the roof- 
garden.” 

Sadie went out and, in a few moments, reap¬ 
peared with Martha, a tiny, dark-haired girl 
whose sightless blue eyes gave a far-away, almost 
ethereal expression to her delicate face. 

“ I am so glad to know you,” she said, smiling 
sunnily as introductions were being made. 
“ Sadie has told me a great deal about you both.” 

She listened very intently when they first be¬ 
gan to talk, but, after a time, relaxed in her chair 
and took part in the conversation quite naturally, 
turning toward whoever addressed her, just as 
though she were studying their faces and ges¬ 
tures. In a very few moments she had learned 
to recognize their voices. Before the visit was 
over, she could distinguish Florence’s quick step 
from Betty’s slower, longer stride; she could pass 


JOLLY SOPHOMORES 


223 

her hands lightly over the features of each and 
recognize them by the sense of touch. 

Sadie slipped out for a few moments and re¬ 
turned, laden with packages. Drawing up the 
table, she set out cold roast meat, rolls, straw¬ 
berry preserve, and Japanese tea-cakes. She 
made tea in the little kitchen, and, when all was 
ready, called her guests to the impromptu feast 
with all the pride of the seasoned hostess. 

While they ate, they talked gaily of everyday 
campus experiences, and related mirthful anec¬ 
dotes of events that were not quite “ everyday.” 
This led gradually to more serious topics, and 
they began to discuss their hopes and ambitions 
for the future. Betty vigorously defended her 
choice of a career as scientific agriculturist, clos¬ 
ing with the sweeping statement, “ Women are a 
success at anything they put their minds to. No 
line of work ought to be closed to them.” 

“ Not even prize-fighting? ” questioned Martha, 
with a demure smile that set them all to laugh¬ 
ing. 

“ Florence is a History shark,” Betty eluci¬ 
dated, glad to divert attention from herself. 
“ She used to think it an imposition to be re¬ 
quired to memorize a couple of names and dates; 


224 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

but now she learns them by the yard—and all be¬ 
cause my fair cousin dug up an Indian devil-stick 
and presented it to her. She goes around to all 
the available museums and ferrets out a story 
for every object in it—well, almost every object,” 
she amended, noting the flash of accusing protest 
in Florence’s eyes. 

“ I love History, too,” breathed Martha, 
“ though the stories of wars and massacres dis¬ 
tress me. I like to think that some day, not too 
far away, the world will be all peace, and love, 
and friendship. I can’t understand why there 
should be so much sorrow and suffering in a 
world so full of beauty.” 

She stopped, suddenly embarrassed, but the 
other girls understood. They knew why Martha 
was already beginning to be known as an ideal¬ 
istic poet, and they marveled that one en¬ 
shrouded in total darkness still found the world 
“ so full of beauty.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


DAYS THAT FLY 

Both Betty and Florence became a permanent 
part of the little circle of friends winch clustered 
about Martha and Sadie and made life happier 
for them by their matter-of-fact congeniality. 
There was nothing of pity or condescension in 
their attitude; they were simply good friends who 
enjoyed one another’s company. Even Betty dis¬ 
carded her old prejudice and received Sadie with 
the same frank cordiality that she accorded her 
other friends. 

Besides following a full program of study, 
Martha took part in a number of college activi¬ 
ties. With Sadie as watchful guide, she enjoyed 
a daily frolic in the swimming pool; on week¬ 
ends she went to Lake Merritt and paddled about, 
enjoying the rhythm and motion of canoeing. 
Even at the Stanford game, she was as excited 
as anybody else. She went also to the Sopho¬ 
more Hop and danced, gaily unconscious of her 
handicap, though Sadie always hovered near. 

The golden autumn days sped by, Florence 

225 


226 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


becoming more and more absorbed in ber work, 
despite the demands of committees, social func¬ 
tions, and athletics. She fairly devoured the 
long letters from Ted, who was now in South 
America and had much to tell her of the land of 
the Incas. 

“ He doesn’t seem at all conscious of the won¬ 
der of it all,” breathed Florence. She and Robert 
Arclift were walking to their History class to¬ 
gether. “I wonder if Ted Carson knows how 
fortunate he is? And Viola, too. She’s in Paris, 
studying Art. It—it is nice to be wealthy, isn’t 
it?” 

“ Oh-h-h, it has its advantages all right,” as¬ 
sented Robert. “ But I’m happy as long as I can 
do the kind of work I like.” 

“Of course, but think what an advantage 
money would be. You’re going to be an arche¬ 
ologist. Think what it would mean to be able 
to go to Italy or Egypt and study the old ruins 
at first hand. Wouldn’t you love it, Rob?” 

“ Oh, I’d like it, all right. But America has a 
history, too. Didn’t I tell you about those ruins 
in "New Mexico? I guess there’s work enough 
for me right here in the U. S. A.—for a while, at 
least.” 


DAYS THAT FLY 


227 


“ Yes, but just tbe same, it is nice not to have 
to think of the cost every time you want to do 
anything. I’ve had a terrible siege of the 6 wan¬ 
derlust 7 ever since I first met Ted Carson. I’d 
love to spend a little of every year seeing the 
wonders that are everyday events to him.” 

Robert did not reply, but Florence thought 
nothing of his sudden silence, for they had taken 
their seats in the History room, and Professor 
Furlow was on the platform. She uncapped her 
fountain pen and wrote absorbedly as Professor 
Furlow lectured on the very things which Ted 
had mentioned so casually in his letter. Robert 
wrote spasmodically, chewing his pen for long 
intervals while his attention wavered ridiculously 
from the customs of the Incas to a tiny golden 
ringlet which almost brushed his hand as Flor¬ 
ence bent over her work. The moment the clock 
struck, he slammed his note-book shut and tucked 
his pen away. The instructor had scarcely fin¬ 
ished announcing the assignments for next time 
when Robert began to speak. 

“ Flo,” he said, “ you don’t have any Saturday 
classes, do you? Let’s take a run over to Mount 
Tamalpais, or Muir Woods. Betty has never 
been there. Well get Charlie to come along, too. 


228 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

His mother is down here now and will make a 
perfect c chap/ she’s so young and jolly. Let’s? ” 
u I’d love it/’ Florence agreed enthusiastically. 
44 It will do us all good, too, after the grinding 
for mid-terms.” 

A pearly mist covered the hay as the excur¬ 
sionists crossed, the next morning, but even be- 

i 

fore they had transferred to the Golden Gate 
ferry, the fog had begun to lift, and when they 
reached Sausalito, the sun was shining. It was 
a perfect November day, warm, yet with a moist 
salt breeze that was invigorating. 

The party stepped off the train at Mill Valley 
and immediately started away past the old 
wooden mill from which the town takes its name. 
They followed the Pipe Line Trail through shady 
glens, over gurgling streams, and along the edge 
of sheer canyons. Steep, and dangerous in 
places, it was an exhilarating climb, even to these 
hikers who had tramped the trails of Yosemite. 
Wherever there was an opening in the foliage, 
they stopped to look down upon the panorama 
of velvety hills and shimmering blue water. 
Somebody started to sing, and they walked on 
briskly to the rhythm of 


DAYS THAT FLY 


229 


‘ 4 California, California! 

The hills send back the cry 
You’ve got to do or die 
For California, California.” 

Still merry and unfatigued, they reached the 
grove of giant redwoods, named for the man who 
loved it so well—John Muir. The rustic inn was 
closed, there was no sign of life about, but the 
little party enjoyed the solitude. They wandered 
into the woods and, seating themselves at the 
foot of a great, red-barked giant, they set to work 
upon the luncheon baskets. Potato salad and 
stacks of sandwiches were laid upon a white 
cloth over a patch of moss. 

“ Get busy! ” advised Mrs. Hartley, and the 
order did not have to be repeated. 

“ Pm not a bit hungry,” observed Robert, as he 
finished his fourth chicken sandwich and helped 
himself to another. 

“Hor I,” added Florence, heaping a second 
helping of salad onto her cardboard plate. 

Cake and fruit disappeared with like rapidity, 
despite the lack of the coffee they had hoped to 
procure at the inn. 

“ Isn’t this great? ” yawned Betty, leaning 
back comfortably against a tree whose age had 


2 3 o HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

four digits to it. “ I do get tired of teas and hops 
and city life in general, now and then.” 

“ Me, too,” Charles agreed, drawing deep 
breaths of the woodsy air. “ I was wishing me 
back in my little ole apple-orchard, just the 
other day.” 

“ The idea of a Sophomore’s being homesick! ” 
teased Betty. 

“ It’s been known to happen before,” put in 
Florence, as Charles flushed slightly. 

“ Oh,—Marceil?” laughed Betty. “Well, she 
has cause. How would you feel if you had all 
those miles between you and home? But you 
should have seen her last winter! She was in 
her element up home in all the snow. I wish you 
could have seen that girl skate! She says that 
most everybody knows how, back East.” 

“ I’d love to go back East for a winter, and 
enjoy all the winter sports.” 

“Why go so far? Come home with us, this 
Christmas, or if you’d rather spend Christmas 
at home, meet us in Truckee afterwards. We 
nearly always go up for the Carnival. Will you, 
Flo? ” Betty ended eagerly. 

Bobert sat up and smiled his approval of the 
plan. “You’d love it!” he declared buoyantly. 


DAYS THAT FLY 


231 

“And fun! You’ll have the time of your life; 
take my word for it! ” 

“Marceilwill probably come, too,” added Betty. 

Florence’s eyes lighted. “ I know I’d like it. 
And I’m sure Mother won’t mind if I run up just 
for a week or so. How long does it take to get 
to Truckee from Santa Barbara? ” 

“ Two days, even less, if you make your con¬ 
nections so that there will be no long wait in 
Oakland.” 

“ I think I can manage it,” Florence beamed. 
“ It will mean leaving home a week or ten days 
sooner, but-” 

“ You’ll have almost two weeks at home any¬ 
way,” observed Betty. 

“ I’ll write Mother to-morrow,” Florence prom¬ 
ised, and the talk of carnival time among the 
Sierra snows gradually gave way to a more 
serious trend. 

“ I wonder what we’ll all be doing ten years 
from now,” Robert interposed. 

“ I wager I can tell you what you two will be 
doing, if your dreams come true,” Florence 
challenged. 

“ What? ” 

“ Betty will be inventing some new method of 



232 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

spraying, that will permit her to work the spray 
gun all day long without killing the entire or¬ 
chard.” 

Betty herself joined the laugh, for every one 
knew how she loved to “ squirt the hose.” 

“ Rob will dig down through a couple of miles 
of Arizona sand and find a city so old that all the 
histories will have to be revised.” 

“ And Flo Essex? ” Robert queried. 

“ She’ll be cruising the world in her private 
yacht,” Betty interpolated, “ and when she hears 
about the wonderful spraying invention, or the 
newly discovered city, she’ll frown, and wonder 
where she heard the name Arclift before.” 

“ But where’s the private yacht coming from? ” 
Florence inquired, frankly puzzled. 

“ Oh, you’ll marry a millionaire,” Betty calmly 
assured her. “ You’re always longing for pretty 
things, and mansions, and trips around the 
world, and other little things like that.” 

“Yes,—only yesterday I was treated to an 
oration on the advantages of being wealthy,” 
added Robert. 

“ Well, I do contend, that it is convenient not 
to have to worry about money,” Florence drawled 
thoughtfully, “ but just last night I was thinking 


DAYS THAT FLY 


233 

of the various people I know who are very rich. 
—the Carsons, and the Aldemeres, and our own 
sorority sister, Sheila Halton. They all seem 
so—sort of bored, as though they had already ex¬ 
perienced all the interesting things and had 
nothing left to look forward to. I—I don’t know 
just why it is, but they really don’t seem so happy 
as we, who have to struggle for most everything 
we get.” 

“ I think that’s just the point,” Mrs. Hartley 
interposed quietly. “Life loses its zest when 
there is nothing left to work for.” 

“I really think that’s so,” Florence nodded, 
“ though you could never have convinced me of 
that fact last year, or even a few months ago.” 
She was thinking particularly of her visit to 
Viola, and the longings it had bred in her 
heart. 

“ What would you like to be doing, ten years 
from now? ” Eobert asked, curiously. 

“ Some sort of work,” Florence answered un- 
hesitantly, “revising the world’s history, per¬ 
haps,” she added, her eyes twinkling. 

“ And, as for me,” Charles cut in, “ I’ll name 
my best variety of apple the c Arclift,’ after the 
spray inventor, and her distinguished cousin; 


234 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


and I’ll send you a barrel of them every week, 
Flo, to nibble at while you’re writing your his¬ 
tories.” 

Florence’s propensity for the combination of 
a an apple and a book ” was well known, and the 
discussion of the future ended in a gale of laugh¬ 
ter. 

“ Now that your destinies are quite settled, I 
think we had better be starting for home,” Mrs. 
Hartley suggested. 

They cleared away scraps and paper, repacked 
the baskets, and went back along the giant- 
guarded trail. They laughed and joked as busily 
as ever, and stopped here and there to admire 
deep, brush-choked canyons or lovely views over 
mountain and water. Charles whistled a 
sprightly march as they tramped, while his 
mother astonished them all by elaborating his 
theme with trills of her own, and bird calls which 
could deceive the feathered folk themselves. It 
was a day to be long remembered, and to be 
looked back upon with pleasure during the next 
week, when final examinations quieted the gaiety 
of campus life. 

Christmas season was with them almost before 
they realized it. The Gamma Zeta holiday party 


DAYS THAT FLY 


235 


was strictly a “ family affair/’ no outsiders being 
invited. This was the time when the girls found 
how much joy there is in giving, with no expecta¬ 
tion of return. There were only two recipients 
at this Christmas party,—Gamma Zeta, and the 
orphanage. What fun it was to see the empty 
box addressed to the orphans gradually fill and 
overflow with packages of intriguing shapes and 
sizes, to contemplate the happy eyes that would 
look on them at Christmas time! And for those 
who “ just could not help being curious,” there 
was the exciting rustle of tissue paper, the snap 
of strings and ribbons, as one after another of 
Gamma Zeta’s own gifts was opened and exhib¬ 
ited by the House-Mother. Such a profusion of 
embroidered linen, pictures, hand-painted china, 
candles, books, cushions, rugs! A stranger might 
have thought that some bride-to-be was being 
“ showered.” 

Both Florence and Betty left for home the day 
after the Christmas party. Betty rode into Oak¬ 
land to catch her train there, so that they could 
be together that last half-hour. 

“Now, remember! I expect to see you in 
Truckee in two weeks,” was Betty’s parting ad- 


236 HAIL , CALIFORNIAt 

monition, as they separated—one to go north, 
and the other south. 

“ I’ll be there!” replied Florence, with a cor¬ 
diality that left no doubt, of its genuineness. 
Such an invitation from a girl like Betty was 
surely one of the fine things of life. 


CHAPTER XX 


WINTER FROLICS 

A splash of moisture on her face awoke Flor¬ 
ence, the day after Christmas, and she looked 
through the screen of the sleeping-porch out at 
a veil of falling rain. She hastily jumped up to 
roll her bed away from the open and pull down 
the canvas side-curtains. It was still quite dark, 
and a little chill. She crept beneath the covers 
again, shivering. 

“ Hope this means lots of snow in the moun¬ 
tains,” she yawned drowsily, and settled herself 
for another nap. 

When she woke again, the sun was shining 
brilliantly. Her mother, in raincoat and helmet, 
was standing beside her cot, laughing. “ Lazy! 
Aren’t you ever going to get up? It’s nearly 
nine o’clock.” 

“ Oh Mother! ” Florence was instantly awake. 
“ You’ve been for a walk in the woods; why 
didn’t you call me? It’s been ages since we’ve 
had a good tramp in the rain.” 

“ I didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t so very 
pleasant, anyway. The grove was quite dark and 

237 


238 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

cold, and the constant drip-drip that we usually 
like was depressing. But you did miss a most 
gorgeous sky when the sun broke through the 
clouds. Hurry and get dressed. We’re to call 
for Aunt Jean in the car, right after breakfast. 
She is very anxious to see the Mission before her 
train leaves.” 

Despite the eagerness with which Florence an¬ 
ticipated her first experience with snow, she 
looked forward reluctantly to the day of leaving 
home again. Each parting became harder in¬ 
stead of easier. There was “ Doctor Dad ” with 
his dignity sitting so absurdly upon him after 
his daughter had just rumpled his hair and 
pulled his tie all askew with her impetuous em¬ 
braces ; and Mother, more tender and wistful than 
ever; and “Big Brother Jim,” feeling so self- 
important over his gradually increasing practice, 
Jim, with his cherished brown moustache, Jim, 
who always looked so ridiculously young, in spite 
of his best efforts. Even Minna, quiet and 
taciturn as she was, seemed a part of their life, 
the life that Florence hated to leave. More than 
once she recalled her visit to Viola, and its effect 
on her, and wondered how she could ever have 
craved any sweeter home life than this. 


WINTER FROLICS 


239 

Mrs. Essex and Florence did have their walk 
in the rain before the week was over. They had 
delightful shopping trips, long drives through 
the shady foothills, and once, a cool, invigorat¬ 
ing dip in the surf. Hours, even minutes, were 
precious, this short vacation, and so Florence 
forswore the usual round of picnics and parties 
indulged in by the younger set, and spent her 
time with her own people. 

The day before she was to leave for the North¬ 
ern Sierras, came a night letter from Betty. 
“ Have postponed our Truckee trip a day or two. 
Come directly to Snow City. We will go up to¬ 
gether from here.” 

Florence suspected that things had not gone so 
well as expected. She read the message over and 
over, and even penned a reply, postponing her 
visit until another year, but she did not send it. 
After all, she had promised Betty this visit. 

The train which bore her out of rose-bowered 
Santa Barbara was very warm and stuffy. She 
opened the window and slipped off her coat, gaz¬ 
ing eagerly out over the hills for an occasional 
refreshing glimpse of the ocean. 

It was unusually warm even in San Francisco, 


240 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


next day, and when Florence boarded the train 
which was to take her to Snow City, she was 
almost certain that as far as the winter carnival 
was concerned, she was to be disappointed. 
Northward, beyond the glittering waters of the 
bay, through the valley, green and blossoming 
in defiance of the glaring sunshine, to Sacra¬ 
mento went Florence, so warm and lazy that she 
did not move from her seat during the ten-minute 
stop, but bought an ice-cream cone, cheerfully 
paying triple price for the privilege of having 
it brought to her. She breathed a sigh as the 
train moved out of the sultry city and roared 
northward again. 

“ Two hours, and then we’ll be getting into the 
mountains,” she reflected hopefully. “ It ought 
to be a little cooler, by that time.” 

And so it was. With the setting of the sun 
there was an abrupt drop in temperature. Win¬ 
dows were banged down all over the car, and it 
was not entirely for the purpose of keeping out 
the smoke and cinders of the tunnel region. With 
the first breath of mountain air, everybody 
seemed to wake up and, as the train rushed 
through the dark forests of the Sierra foothills, 
a decided animation took the place of the listless- 


WINTER FROLICS 


241 

ness which, had characterized the first stages of 
the long, hot trip. 

At Colfax, Florence stepped off the train al¬ 
most into the arms of Betty, who gave her an ex¬ 
uberant welcome. “We came down in our run¬ 
about,” she explained, quite unimpressed with 
the fact that every word sent a visible puff of 
breath into the cold air. “ Your baggage is all 
checked? Good! But we could have made room 
for it, anyway.” 

“ Hello, Flo! ” called Bob’s cheery voice. 
“What’s the matter? You’re not freezing al¬ 
ready, are you? Jump in the car. C’mon, Bet, 
help Flo fix the robe. There, this drive’s going to 
be a little chilly. Maybe you girls had better 
take the stage, after all.” 

“No. I love this air,” protested Florence, 
drawing deep breaths of it. “ I’ve been swelter¬ 
ing all day.” 

“ Really? It has been cold up here, though it 
was almost summery yesterday,” observed Betty, 
as Rob turned the car out of the noisy railroad 
yard and they sped away over a forest-bordered, 
hard-packed road. “ And Flo, we haven’t had a 
bit of snow yet! I so hoped that we might, be¬ 
fore you arrived. Even at Truckee, it has been 


242 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


so warm that it’s slushy. Will you be terribly 
disappointed if there isn’t any carnival? ” 
“N-not too terribly,” Florence answered un¬ 
certainly, “but, just the same, I’m determined 
to see some snow, even if it is slush. Can’t we 
go to Truckee, just for a day, maybe? ” 

Betty giggled and administered an impulsive 
hug. “ You’re every bit as bad as Marceil,” she 
said. 

“ As bad! I have a right to be much worse! 
She has played in the snow nearly all her life, 
and I have never even been near it! ” 

A swift run over a dark, woodland road, and 
they arrived at the Arclift cottage, quite ready 
to appreciate a seat by the fire and a supper of 
hot tamales with Betty’s sweet little mother and 
tall, weather-burned father. Marceil came in 
with a box of butterhorns from the “ Home¬ 
made Confectionery ” store, and they feasted 
merrily. 

“ Remember the first time Marceil encountered 
a tamale?” twinkled Betty, expertly removing 
the meal from the corn-husks. 

“I thought I’d never get through the corn 
wrappings,” laughed Marceil, who could appre¬ 
ciate the joke now. “And the first mouthful 


WINTER FROLICS 


243 

of what was inside tasted like liquefied red pep¬ 
per. Ugh! ” 

To-night, she very carefully mixed the meal 
and meat with the hot sauce, determined to avoid 
a repetition of that first disillusioning taste of 
the famous Mexican delicacy. 

They sat up late that night, discussing hopes 
and plans for the coming week, and listening to 
fascinating tales told by Mr. Arclift, who was a 
Forest Supervisor, and had had many exciting 
adventures. 

“ And now,” Betty insisted at last, “ I’m going 
to take you upstairs, Florence. After your long 
trip, you must be tired.” 

This was the signal for a general breaking up. 
Good-nights were said, and the girls climbed the 
stairs to the little guest-room. 

u I’ll come in and make a fire for you in the 
morning,” offered Betty, turning to go to her 
own room. “ There are coals in the stove, but 
they won’t last very long.” 

“ Oh, don’t bother! ” protested Florence. “ I’ll 
make the fire, if the room becomes chilly. I be¬ 
lieve it’s getting a little warmer outdoors,” she 
added, raising the window. u The air is not so 
biting.” 


244 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

“ Good-night, Flo. Remember to call me if you 
want anything.” Betty departed, leaving her 
guest to prepare for her much needed rest. 

Next morning, Florence was awakened by 
some one gently shaking her. Her eyes flew 
open inquiringly. 

“ Good-morning, Sleepyhead! ” Betty was 
laughing. “ It’s nearly ten o’clock,—and I wish 
you’d sit up and look out of the window! Marss 
and I just couldn’t wait any longer to tell you.” 

Florence sleepily turned her head on the pil¬ 
low, and then promptly sat erect with a cry of de¬ 
light. The outside air was filled with huge, 
downy flakes which scurried and danced about 
as they fell onto the thickly covered ground. 
The neighboring houses looked, to her uninitiated 
eyes, like so many frosted cakes, and the tree out¬ 
side her window, like a lovely bride. The tele¬ 
phone wires, too, had been transformed to bridal 
ribbons. 

She ran over to crouch by the window and 
drink in the full beauty of the scene. It seemed 
as though nothing but a miracle could have thus 
transformed the drab little town into a vision of 
Fairyland. 

“How about a trip to Truckee, now?” sang 


WINTER FROLICS 


245 

Betty gaily, and there was a strong chorus of 
“ Ayes! ” 

They hardly waited to swallow a warm break¬ 
fast, in their anxiety to get out in the snow. 
Florence stepped timidly into the drift on the 
porch, not quite knowing what to expect. She 
ecstatically scooped up a great handful, reveling 
like a child in the lovely stuff. 

“ There’s Bob, trying out his sled,” cried Betty. 
“ Let’s take possession. Mornin’, Rob! We’re 
ready for a ride.” 

“ All right. Plenty of room for all three of 
you. I’ll pull you as far as the hill; then you 
can coast down, and I’ll come after the sled.” 

With laughter and squeals of delight, the girls 
went skimming over the snow, eliciting smiles of 
sympathy, perhaps envy, from groups of their 
elders who walked sedately through the deepen¬ 
ing drifts. 

“ Now,” said Rob, when they reached the brow 
of the hill. “You steer, Betty, and watch out 
you don’t run down anybody.” He handed her 
the rope, gave them a shove, and off they went. 

The snow was too deep to admit of much speed, 
but it was soft and moist, and the sled cut 
through it easily. Florence screamed like a 


246 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

happy child, and, when they tumbled off at the 
bottom of the hill, she raised a rosy face to the 
others. 

u We’re not a bit dignified, are we? ” she said, 
but there was not much contrition in her 
voice. 

“ Who expects Sophomores to be dignified, any¬ 
way? ” Betty inquired of the universe. 

It seemed no time at all before Mrs. Arclift 
called them in to the midday dinner. They tum¬ 
bled merrily up the steps, rosy with fun and 
laughter, and stamped the snow from their feet 
and brushed the flakes from their shoulders and 
caps. 

“ Here they come, bringing a whiff of fresh 
air and joy with them,” called Mr. Arclift from 
the sitting-room. He gazed approvingly at the 
glowing young faces. “ I reckon you aren’t going 
to miss your share of it, even if you weren’t up 
with the first chimes, this morning.” 

Mrs. Arclift hovered about like an anxious lit¬ 
tle banty, to see that her “ chickens ” were com¬ 
fortable and warm. “ Rob came in a while ago, 
just sopping wet,” she worried, “ and the minute 
I got him into dry things, he wanted to go right 
out again.” 


WINTER FROLICS 


247 


“ Oh, but it’s such fun, Aunt Lou. We’re go¬ 
ing to build a snow man this afternoon, aren’t 
we, Ladies?” 

“Not just yet,” insisted the little mother. 
“Wait until it stops snowing and gets cold 
enough to dry some of the moisture. We don’t 
want any pneumonia patients looking sadly out 
the window at the others who were sensible 
enough to resist it for a while.” 

Rob glanced furtively toward Florence and 
was relieved to find that she apparently took his 
aunt’s “ babying ” of him quite as a matter of 
course. It was easy to forget the dignity and re¬ 
sponsibilities of college life, when one was under 
Mrs. Arclift’s motherly wing. 

t 

The long anticipated trip to Truckee was all 
that they had hoped it would be. Marceil and 
Florence, particularly, enjoyed the journey in 
the creaky little narrow-gauge train with its tiny 
stove. Robert and Mr. Arclift kept the fire roar¬ 
ing, as the brakeman seemed to be occupied else¬ 
where. There were other carnival-bound parties, 
and the air rang with rival songs and merriment. 

Marceil was especially gay. She seemed to 
be in her element, and there was not a trace of 


24B HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

the girl who had earned the title of “ the home- 
sickest Freshman in the whole United States.” 
It was she who discovered the old mansion 
fronted by two enormous palm-trees, which stood 
up bravely in the midst of snow-drifts. 

“ Funny, Fve seen them that way so often,” 
mused Betty, “and I never thought of them as 
being paradoxical. They do look queer though, 
don’t they? ” 

“ Queer! They look positively idiotic, like a 
scene from a ridiculous dream. No, I don’t really 
think so, Flo,” Marceil promptly added, “ but I 
had to say something quick before you started 
getting poetical. I could just see the native 

t 

daughter spirit in you ready to tell me that Cal¬ 
ifornia is the only place on earth where palm- 
trees grow in snow-banks.” 

“Well, isn’t it?” challenged Florence, and 
Marceil subsided. 

For Florence, the Carnival was a greater event 
than for anybody else in their merry party. She 
was never to forget that first toboggan ride, that 
flying journey over the smooth, icy track, with 
the white landscape racing past, and the air 
all atwinkle with bits of frost. She would always 



WINTER FROLICS 


249 


remember the gay jingle of sleigh-bells as they 
slid along woodland roads, past the dark-blue 
waters of Lake Tahoe; she would remember, too, 
her surprise when she first stood firmly balanced 
on two thin blades of steel. She had always 
thought skating a most dangerous and difficult 
art, and was pleasantly amazed when she found 
that, with Robert’s help, she could go skimming 
over the ice as securely, if not as speedily, as the 
others; and that to fall on the ice usually meant 
no great injury, other than wounded pride. Be¬ 
fore the end of the week, her proficiency and en¬ 
joyment had increased to such an extent that 

it was almost true when Robert laughingly ex- 

% 

claimed, “ Flo would rather skate than eat! ” 
She had missed her lunch, rather than cut short 
her hour on the ice. Marceil was not the only 
one who turned away reluctantly from the Win¬ 
ter Carnival. 

“ I don’t know when I’ve had such glorious 
fun,” Florence sighed, as the tiny train bore them 
south again. “ I can see now, why palms and 
midwinter flowers sometimes get a little monot¬ 
onous for you, Marss.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


TEAM-WORK 

Even after tlie varied experiences of vacation, 
it was surprisingly easy to slip back into the 
routine of college life, once tlie girls were on the 
campus again. And wbat a busy, happy spring 
term it was, with new classes, committee work, 
hops and proms, teams, and basket-ball practice. 

Florence worked especially hard in basket¬ 
ball. She had already won honors in Parthe- 
neia, canoeing, tennis, and other more or less 
individual activities. Xow she was anxious to 
prove to herself that she could do good team¬ 
work, too. Even Snow Queen became a trifle neg¬ 
lected, in favor of an extra half-hour of goal 
shooting or “ skeleton practice.” When training 
rules were announced, she kept them sedulously, 
even to the point of giving up all possible evening 
engagements in order that she might be assured 
of plenty of time to u be in bed by ten o’clock.” 

“ You certainly are a conscientious little sub,” 

remarked Sidney approvingly at dinner, when 

Florence persistently refused everything that 

was forbidden by training rules. 44 You’ll be in 

250 


TEAM-WORK 


251 

the pink of condition. Here’s hoping that you 
get a chance to play.” 

“ She’d die of happiness if she could sub for 
just five minutes in the Intercollegiate,” teased 
Betty. 

However, it did not look as though Florence 
were going to substitute at all. She did not 
care to admit, even to Betty, the disappointment 
with which she read the announcement that the 
Sophomore Basket-Ball team would take only 
one substitute when they were to play Mills 
College Sophomores,—for that substitute was not 
Florence Essex. 

“ It’s perfectly right, though,” she tried to 
reason with herself. “ Gertrude is the best all- 
around player among us. I think I’m a wee bit 
better at goals than she, but then, she’s at home 
in any position on the field. She’s the only log¬ 
ical person to make a good emergency sub.” 

Nevertheless, Florence was disappointed. She 
hid her feelings under strenuous practice, and 
continued to live up to all the team rules. After 
all, it was worth while to play just for the fun 
of the game. 

“ Ten baskets out of twelve trials! ” marveled 


252 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


Betty, who stood watching her, one evening. 
u You’re getting better every day, Flo.” 

“It’s fun, trying all the different tricks. I 
must practise that carom to-morrow. It never 
fails, if you find the right spot on the backboard.” 

“If,” laughed Betty. “You can’t be partic¬ 
ular about spots, with a guard doing a pin-wheel 
in front of you.” 

“ But it’s easy to free yourself from your guard 
if you act quickly.—Good-night, Miss Bower.” 

u She’s been watching you, Flo,” confided 
Betty, as they hurried off the field. “ Shouldn’t 
wonder if she has changed her mind about taking 
only one sub. You’d be better than Gertrude, as 
forward.” 

“ At shooting, perhaps; but Gert is so tiny and 
quick, she could flash the ball to the other for¬ 
ward and let her do the goal work. It would be 
silly to take two subs, don’t you think? We may 
not need even one.” 

u You can’t always tell. Hurry through your 
shower, will you, Flo? I want to stop a minute 
on Telegraph Avenue.” 

The evening before the Intercollegiate came, 
and there was still no change of plans concerning 


TEAM-WORK 


2 53 


the substitutes to be taken. Florence bad quite 
given up bope of appearing with tbe team, tbougb 
sbe still refused ber coffee and a ricb dessert 
which was very tempting. 

“ Telephone, Florence/’ smiled a little Fresh¬ 
man, coming in from tbe ball. 

Betty looked up hopefully. It was easy to see 
what sbe thought it was. But tbe voice that 
came over tbe wire was not that of tbe athletic 
manager. 

“ Viola! ” exclaimed Florence happily. “ I 
bad no idea you were back yet.” 

“Surprise!” laughed Viola. “Mother and I 
just got in yesterday. We came via tbe canal, 
direct from Cherbourg.” 

“ What a glorious trip it must have been! ” 

“ It was, and I’m going to tell you all about it 
when you run over to-night. We’re at tbe Palace, 

but I’ll have Ted meet you at tbe ferry, if you 

# 

like. He and Louis are due any minute now. 
Can’t you come over and complete tbe party? ” 

“ Ted and Louis back, too! ” 

“Yes, do come. Ted is dying to tell you all 
bis adventures. You’re really one of tbe most 
appreciative listeners. We’ll have supper at nine, 
just tbe five of us,—and, maybe, dance a little.” 


254 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

“ Oh, I’d love it, Viola. It seems so long since 
I have seen you all! ” 

“ Sweet child! ” Viola laughed. “ Try to catch 
the seven-twenty. I’ll send Ted to the ferry at 
eight o’clock.” 

“ Thank you, Viola. I’ll run up and dress 
right away.” 

Florence had run upstairs and slipped her 
dress off hurriedly before she thought of training 
rules again. With a cry of dismay, she sank into 
a chair. 

“ What am I thinking of? ” she wailed. “ Mne 
o’clock supper and dancing,—the very night be¬ 
fore the game! Of course, it really wouldn’t 
make any difference, as long as I’m not going to 
play,” she reasoned, “ but then, there’s the spirit 
of the thing. Training isn’t up until after the 
game. O dear! I do want to see Viola, and 
Ted, and Louis.” 

m 

She glanced at the clock and vainly tried to 
figure a way to get to San Francisco and back 
before ten o’clock. “ It’s impossible,” she de¬ 
cided dejectedly. “ And it would only spoil their 
party. I’ll have to tell her to ask some one else. 
But I don’t want to! ” 

She put on her dress again, and went down- 


TEAM-WORK 


*55 

stairs. The telephone was in use. She sat on the 
stairs debating wretchedly for five minutes. The 
telephone was free at last, and she went toward 
it determinedly but, just as she reached for it, 
the bell rang stridently. 

“ Gamma Zeta House, 1 ” she said wearily. “ No, 
this isn’t Marjorie. I’ll call her.” 

For another five minutes Florence waited im¬ 
patiently, biting her lips, and picturing Viola’s 
resentment. Viola was not accustomed to having 
her invitations slighted. When she tried again, 
the bell began to tinkle ominously, but she 
signaled the operator resolutely. 

“ I’ve waited long enough,” she pouted. “ Who¬ 
ever you are, you can wait a little minute, too.” 

u Hello, Viola? ” she said at last. 

“ Yes, cherie. You’re not on this side already, 
are you? ” 

“ No, Viola, I—I hate to tell you, but honestly, 
I—I oughtn’t to come. I was so pleased and 
grateful and surprised when you called, that I 
forgot everything else. But-” 

“ Whatever is the matter, child? If it’s an¬ 
other engagement, can’t you break it? We’re 
leaving for the South to-morrow, and we should 
like to see you.” 



256 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

“ I know. It’s dear of you. I want to see you, 
too, of course, but—well, training rules, you 
know. The Intercollegiate conies to-morrow.” 

“ Oh, is that it? And you’re going to play? ” 

“ !No, but I’m on the sub team; and we all keep 
training rules right up to the end, whether we 
play or not.” 

“But that’s silly. What difference does it 
make, if you’re not going to play? ” 

“ But you see, we’re considered members of the 
team, and we must abide by the rules.” 

“But it’s so idiotic! If you were going to 
play, it would be different.” 

Florence’s reply was interrupted by the 
“busy” signal. 

“Don’t you see, Viola—sportsmanship, you 
know. All the other girls are keeping training. 
It wouldn’t be fair for me not to.” 

“ Oh, I can see what you mean. I’ve been in 
training myself. But we’re so anxious to see 
you! Of course, if you’d rather win a set of felt 
numerals-” 

“ Viola! You know it isn’t for the sake of the 
numerals. It’s-” 

“I won’t keep you, Florence. Some one is 
trying to get your line. We’d better hang up.” 




TEAM-WORK 


257 


“ I’m sorry, Viola.” 

A click was all that answered her. She hung 
up the receiver, forlornly trying to decide 
whether it was she or Viola who was acting un¬ 
reasonably. The bell rang so vigorously that she 
jumped. 

“ Gamma Zeta House,” she repeated auto¬ 
matically, into the mouthpiece. “ This is Flor¬ 
ence Essex. Oh! Yes, Miss Bower. Yes, of 
course. Indeed I can, but what about Gertrude? 
She really prefers it that way? Then I am to 
play the whole game! ” 

Two seconds later, she danced joyfully into her 
room, nearly upsetting Betty and a huge pile of 
books. 

“ Oh, Betts! I’m to play, after all! The 
whole game! Violet Eames has been called 
home,—our star forward, too. Isn’t it too dread¬ 
ful? How can I ever replace Violet Eames? ” 

Her exuberance gave way to nervous apprehen¬ 
sion, but Betty was beaming. “ Oh, you’ll be all 
right. You’re used to Han’s centre tactics, 
and once you get the ball—ten to one, it’s a 
goal.” 

“ But Marta’s a wiz of a guard.” 

“ It was only lately that I heard some one re- 


258 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

mark that it was easy to evade a guard, if you 
were quick.” 

Florence laughed nervously. “ I didn’t know 
that my wisdom would be put to the test so soon. 
But Betty, isn’t Gertrude a trump? She told 
Miss Bower that she preferred to have me play, 
and that she would go as emergency sub, just as 
she had planned.” 

“ She knew that you would be likely to make 
more goals; but it was good sportsmanship, all 
right.” 

Florence quivered with excitement as she ran 
onto the field with the team, amid cheers and 
fluttering pennants. The whistle blew for line¬ 
up, and, in the sudden hush that followed, she 
could almost hear the agitated beating of her 
heart. 

The toss-up, another shrill whistle, and the 
game was on. The ball went immediately to 
Mills; there was but a moment of play, and 
“ Goal! ” called the referee. 

Florence walked to her place again, amid the 
din of Mills’ cheering and California’s cries of 
encouragement. The whistle had scarcely 
sounded when the ball was in Nan’s hands. She 


TEAM-WORK 


259 


shot it to Julia, who, too closely guarded to risk 
a try for goal, sent it to Florence. Florence 
pivoted away from her guard, hut the applause 
for this agility changed to groans. Florence’s 
carom throw had failed, and the ball bounced 
back directly into the hands of Mills’ guard. It 
passed quickly through centre, and Mills scored 
another basket. 

“ Mills 4, California 0,” called the score-keeper. 

Florence bit her lip, and dared not look toward 
the California rooters who were still good- 
naturedly calling encouragement. 

“ I sha’n’t experiment with that carom again,” 
she resolved. 

The next three goals went to Mills, but Cali¬ 
fornia was gradually waking up to its opponents’ 
lightning-like tactics. The play grew faster, the 
ball rallied up and down the field, eluding the 
forwards on both sides. There w T as a struggle 
near the line, and a Mills guard slipped over. 
The linesman’s whistle shrilled. 

u California’s unguarded throw for goal,” 
called the referee, handing the ball to Flor¬ 
ence. 

There was an awful hush as she took her place 
on the line. Her eyes and mind were concen- 


260 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


trated on the iron ring. She must not fail! The 
ball flew up and descended in a graceful curve, 
straight through the basket. Florence relaxed 
with a satisfied sigh. She could not remember 
when the swish of the net, as the ball slid 
through, had ever sounded so gratifying. 

At the end of the first half, the score-keeper 
called, “ Mills 10—California 1.” 

“ Not so bad, Mills. Keep it up,” they cheered 
on one side. 

“ Fight, fight, fight, California,” they sang on 
the other. 

The successful free throw was just the en¬ 
couragement that Florence needed. During the 
second half she played swiftly, alertly, deter¬ 
mined to bring the California score nearer the 
level of Mills’; but the watchful guard already 
knew the play between Nan and Florence. They 
had to change their tactics. Twice Julia had the 
ball, and twice she allowed Mills’ guard to gain 
possession of it on its way toward the basket. 

“ They have it all over us, Flo. I never saw a 
team play so well,” she whispered during a 
respite, but Florence only tossed her head, and 
frowned. 

She watched Julia’s next futile attempt for 


TEAM-WORK 


261 

goal, shot to a place in front of the tall guard, 
and interrupted the ball on its way to centre. A 
quick, well-aimed shot, and she had scored a goal 
for California before her surprised guard knew 
where to find her. 

“ Mills 10—California 3.” 

The Blue and Gold waved cheerily, a song 
broke out. In the next play, the ball went almost 
immediately to Julia. She took heart and made 
a desperate attempt for goal. The ball rolled 
entirely around the ring twice, and dropped 
through, accompanied by a concerted gasp. 

“ Mills 10—California 5.” 

“ Don’t let them climb, Mills.” 

“ Come on, California.” 

The ball was at centre again, before half the 
excited crowd had noticed that Mills had scored 
again. 

“ Mills 12—California 5.” 

There was no effort, now, to control the ex¬ 
citement. California shouted for a tie, and Mills 
cheerfully advised her team to u hold ’em,” after 
the manner of football rooters. 

California was keenly watchful. Swift, silent 
passes to Florence resulted in two more goals for 
the Blue and Gold. 


262 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

“ Mills 12—California 9,” the scorer called. 
“ Five minutes to play.” 

In the stand a positive babble ensued, but the 
players darted about silently. 

“ Mills 14—California 9.” California began 
to lose hope again, but not Florence. 

She made another successful goal, and Mills 
began to make “ sacrifice plays ” to keep the ball 
out of her territory. But once their expectations 
disappointed them. Even Mills’ rooters laughed 
at the ease with which Julia scored a basket, 
after the ball had been fairly played into her 
hands by her opponents. 

“ Mills 14—California 13. Two minutes to 
play.” 

Pandemonium broke loose in the bleachers, 
but every girl on the field was tensely silent. 
Again the ball began to rally back and forth. 
Mills made a hurried try for goal. California’s 
guard secured the ball and shot it back to centre. 
Julia dashed forward quickly, caught the ball, 
and dropped it. The guard who hastily secured 
it stopped, for Julia was standing perfectly still, 
her face contorted with pain. A whistle blew 
shrilly and the referee stepped up to inquire 
what was wrong. 


TEAM-WORK 263 

“My hand!” Julia gasped, holding up that 
member, already blue and swollen. 

“ Time out.” 

A nurse came forward and led her off the 
field, while Mills and California joined in a cheer 
for her. There was a moment of shocked quiet 
until the nurse announced, “ Just a slight frac¬ 
ture, but it will be very painful for a while. Is 
there a substitute? ” 

Until this moment, Gertrude had sat very still, 
completely absorbed in the game. There was a 
prolonged cheer as she threw off her “ big C ” 
sweater and ran onto the field. 

“ Mills 14—California 13, one minute and a 
half to play.” 

The whistle blew; the excitement revived. 
The players threw themselves into a last des¬ 
perate struggle. Florence’s guard fairly dogged 
her, even when the ball was far off toward the 
opposite goal. California’s centres grew timid 
and rallied the ball between them, in a vain hope 
for an advantage. Mills gained possession, and 
Florence intercepted a pass from guard to guard. 
Thirty seconds to play! 

She was in a corner, her guard between her 
and the basket. She could not pivot away from 



264 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

her; the only hope for goal was by a quick, over¬ 
head throw; that would mean a tie. It took but 
an instant for these thoughts to flash through 
Florence’s mind. California began to cheer, and 
it seemed that Mills was waiting, resigned. No¬ 
body doubted that Florence would bring the score 
to a tie. Suddenly she caught Gertrude’s eye, 
excited and eager. Gertrude was near the basket, 
practically unguarded. With an easy throw, 
Gertrude could make a goal without having to 
resort to overhead. She could make the full two 
points instead of just one. 

“ One, two, three, four,” counted the referee, 
as Florence hesitated. “Five-” But Flor¬ 

ence’s jumping guard had not expected a side- 
arm throw. The ball spun past her into Ger¬ 
trude’s outstretched hands; in another instant, it 
was in the basket. The whistle blew. 

“ Time up! Final score, California 15—Mills 
14.” The score-keeper’s voice was drowned in a 
burst of song addressed to Gertrude. 

Florence stood near the side-lines while the 
“ minute-and-a-half sub ” was showered with 
congratulations. Some one grasped her hand and 
shook it heartily. 

“ Say,” smiled Robert Arclift, “ I used to think 



TEAM-WORK 


265 

that girls always worked for their own particu¬ 
lar glory, but that—that last play of yours was 
the best bit of team-work I’ve seen in a long 
time.” 

Florence smiled gratefully, and went to join 
the crowd who were heaping praises upon the 
“ minute-and-a-half sub.” 


CHAPTER XXII 


TED 

A few days later, Betty bounced into the room 
in her usual breezy manner, but stopped short 
to stare at Florence, who was sitting on the 
window-seat, frowning over a letter. 

“What’s the matter, Honey, bad news?” 

“ Xo, good news.” 

“ Oh, it’s a relief to see you smile. You did 
look so queer when I came in,” said Betty. “ But 
I suppose it was only pretty pensiveness. What 
is the good news? ” 

“A letter from Viola. She apologizes very 
charmingly for her brusqueness the other night, 
and tells me informally about her engagement. 
It’s not to be announced until next month.” 

“Viola engaged? Whom is she going to 
marry? ” 

“Louis Wimbleton.” 

“Louis! Still, they’ve known each other for 

years, haven’t they? And Viola is just practical 

enough to keep him from floating away on a 

cloud. And she’s so dark, and he so fair, they 

are a lovely contrast. I never dreamed that they 

266 



TED 


267 

cared for each other, though, of course, I don’t 
know either of them as well as you do.” Betty 
rattled on for some minutes before she observed 
that Florence was still gravely pensive. 

“Flo, what is the matter? Aren’t you 
pleased? ” 

“ Oh, yes indeed! But Viola’s letter made me 
think of—Ted.” 

“Well? I thought you liked Ted.” 

“ I do. I’m wondering whether I like him well 

enough to-” she hesitated doubtfully and 

then added, “ Betty, the other night Ted told me 
he was going away again, perhaps for a long 
time, and—he wants me to promise to marry him 
when he comes back.” 

“ Oh-h-h-h,” a long-drawn-out gasp. “ Just 
think what that would mean, Flo, to marry a 
Carson! ” 

“ I know. I used to pine for the very things 
that Ted can give me, and I do love ease and 
luxury as much as any kitten; but I’m trying 
not to think of that. I want to think only of 
Ted. I like him, but I’m not sure that I care 
enough. I want to be sure.—It all came about so 
unexpectedly, just at the mention of his going 
away.” 



268 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

“And the heroine sighed, ‘This is so sud¬ 
den!’” laughed Betty, but she immediately be¬ 
came serious. “ Flo dear,” she began quietly, “ I 
love you, and I want you to be happy. I think 
you would be, with Ted and his people, if you 
love him. You could do justice to them all, and 
they’re fond of you. If you and Ted really care 
for each other, I think you would both be ideally 
happy.” 

Betty’s voice quivered with earnestness as she 
spoke, and there was a huskiness in it that 
brought the tears to Florence’s eyes. The two 
girls sat for a long time, hand in hand, silenced 

by the realization that childhood days had 

% 

slipped past them, and that even the carefree 
comradeship of girlhood must have an ending. 

As it turned out, a change of plans kept Ted 
in California for several months. He and Flor¬ 
ence drifted back into their old comradely at¬ 
titude toward each other, and Ted considerately 
refrained from direct reference to the question 
which he knew Florence was not ready to answer. 
He, too, wanted her to be sure before she gave 
him the word that was to decide so much for 
both of them. 


TED 


269 

College days flew by, bringing spring pageants, 
field days, and regattas—the festivities at last 
giving way to final examinations. Examination 
time was hard, but there was always a sense of 
anticipation about it, for ahead lay three months 
of freedom, and home . 

Home! What a joy it was to wake up blink¬ 
ing at Mother’s cheery morning smile, to have 
her near, day and night, to call on when the 
perplexing problems involved in the business of 
growing up became too burdensome. 

“ Ted is fine in every way, and his wealth has 
not spoiled him,” Mrs. Essex told her, during 
their first long talk, “ but I must not influence 
your answer, dear. I would not think too much 
about it now, if I were you. Your own heart 
will tell you, beyond a doubt, when the right 
man comes.” 

Florence was comforted by the look of trust 
and understanding in her mother’s eyes, and she 
knew that she was right. 

She easily drifted back into the round of sum¬ 
mer fun and frolic to be had in Santa Barbara. 
Snow Queen and her fair young rider were seen 
on the woodsy trails again; the little coup£ tooted 
merrily over winding mountain roads and shin- 


270 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

ing highways, the yachts of various friends took 
Florence as a passenger on trips to the islands 
in the channel. 

Ted and Viola came into town occasionally. 
Robert Arclift passed through, on his way to 
join the Archeological Society in New Mexico. 
Sidney Cartwright dropped in for a brief visit, 
while her contingent of the Sierra Club were 
preparing for a walking tour of the Southern 
Sierras. 

It was a summer of fun and relaxation, and, 
though there was no extensive tour, or absence 
from home, it was one of the happiest seasons 
that Florence had ever known. Berkeley beck¬ 
oned as irresistibly as ever that fall, but it was 
with reluctance that Florence saw vacation draw¬ 
ing to a close. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


BEAUX! 

Junior year brought about a change which, to 
both Florence and Betty, seemed almost unbear¬ 
able. Betty, as earnest as ever in her pursuit of 
Agriculture, was transferred to the University 
Branch at Davis, where she and other students 
of that science were given an opportunity to 
apply the theory that they had studied for the 
past two years. Florence was to stay on at 
Berkeley, though both chums came very near 
changing their majors in order to continue their 
college life together. 

Months of “ the best year in college ” passed 

away before Florence could turn toward her 

room at the Chapter House—the same one she 

had shared with Betty for two years—with any 

degree of cheerfulness. She had a room-mate, of 

course, but even if Sophie Cresson had not been 

a shy, studious Freshman with an overwhelming 

passion for Zoology, even if she did not always 

bring with her a scent of formaldehyde and an 

unvoiced, but obvious, disdain for anything that 

could not be pinned down and scientifically dis- 

271 



272 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


sected, Florence could not have allowed her to 
usurp Betty’s place. Sophie and Florence oc¬ 
cupied the same room, but they were not room¬ 
mates in that cosy, comradely sense which draws 
two girls into a lifelong friendship. 

When Florence took her evening walks up into 
the canyon, Marceil or Jerry might go with her, 
never Sophie. Marceil it was, who galloped be¬ 
side her in her morning rides on Snow Queen, 
Marceil who inveigled the canoeing manager to 
allow them to go on the lake together, despite 
their different numerals. Occasionally, Sadie 
Erna was accorded one or two of the privileges 
that had always been Betty’s; but only occa¬ 
sionally. Sadie’s life was entirely absorbed with 
Martha’s. Where Martha could not go, Sadie 
refused to. Though others thought this an un¬ 
necessary sacrifice, Sadie was happier than she 
had ever been before. Martha was well-known 
and loved, and, in serving her, Sadie felt the sub¬ 
lime satisfaction of one who knows that her 
sendee is of help to the world, as well as to the 
individual. Martha Prime was destined to be¬ 
come great. There was, now, no doubt of that. 

Betty, perhaps a bit selfishly, was more 
pleased than otherwise at Florence’s reports on 


BEAUXl 


273 

her room-mate. Betty did not want Florence to 
like Sophie Cresson too well. As for herself, 
she dwelt in a tiny “housekeeping room,” on 
Main Street, where she (to use her own words) 
“could practice culinary and domestic art be¬ 
tween the hours spent among the cows and al¬ 
falfa.” “ And you must manage to spend a week¬ 
end with me, Flo,” one of her letters ended. 
“ You remember, I promised that Fd show you 
how to run a tractor some day. And I can, 
now. Just come up and see me! ” 

In the short visits during which the two girls 
managed to be together, they clung to each other 
and talked such a steady stream that an outsider 
might have fancied their next farewell was to be 
their last. 

But, as winter wore away into spring, a subtle 
change crept into the relations of the two friends. 
They enjoyed each other’s company as much as 
ever, greeted each other with lavish affection 
whenever they met, but both returned to their 
respective residences more contentedly. There 
was less of the constant “ I miss you so ” in their 
letters and conversation. Perhaps the return of 
the Carsons to San Francisco had something to 
do with it. 


274 


HAIL , CALIFORNIAt 


Mrs. Carson and Viola had taken an apart¬ 
ment in the Bay City, and Ted, back from his 
travels, was often with them. Of course, this 
meant that both Ted and Viola had much time 
to be in Berkeley, and that Florence often spent 
a week-end with the Carsons. 

As for Betty, her mother managed to be with 
her for weeks at a time, since Mr. Arclift’s forest 
duties kept him away a good deal. We must not 
fail to mention the fact that Charles Hartley was 
also doing laboratory work at Davis, and was 
achieving great success with his own methods of 
grafting and pruning. Betty found his work as 
interesting as her own and spent many of her 
spare hours among the blossoming fruit-trees of 
Charles’ “ own orchard,” a background which 
even this unromantic youth deemed vastly be¬ 
coming to her. 

Florence was not the only one upon whom 
Betty’s absence cast a spell of gloom. Cousin 
Robert, accustomed to her sisterly companion¬ 
ship ever since the dark days when he had lost 
his parents, seemed utterly at sea without her. 
Not even Florence, w T hom he had long treated 
with the same frank brotherliness, could coax 
him out of his dungeon. He developed a sudden 



BEAUX! 


275 

shyness in her presence. Only on the rare oc¬ 
casions, when Betty was with them, was he his 
old, fun-loving self. 

While Florence gave most of her engagements 
to the prepossessing Ted Carson, Robert let him¬ 
self slip gently into the background. He spent 
days and weeks among his male colleagues and 
friends, working diligently on Advanced Arche¬ 
ology and The Technique of Reconstruction. 
Occasionally, on his jaunts afield, he would pick 
up some relic, a perfect arrow-head, or an Indian 
amulet, and he would tuck it away carefully, to 
send to Florence. Then he would remember the 
antique chain that Ted had given her, and the 
arrow-head or amulet would be handed over to a 
fellow student who had not been fortunate in 
obtaining a souvenir. 

Florence missed Robert’s comradeship, and 
his apparent indifference troubled her. But Ted 
was more attentive than ever, and there were 
times that she was glad she did not have to con¬ 
tend with Robert’s heretofore taken-for-granted 
demands upon her time. She had, however, 
looked forward to Robert’s company during 
Junior Week, when Betty and Charles would be 
present for the fun. Robert remained conspicu- 


276 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

ously absent for so long that Florence at last 
acceded to Ted’s repeated offer to act as her 
escort during the festive week. 

She had a happy time at both the Prom and 
the Farce. It was impossible to do otherwise, 
with such an attentive and popular partner; but, 
just the same, it was not quite as she and Betty 
had planned it. Betty had become strangely 

silent the moment she heard that Bob was away 

\ 

on a field trip, and that Ted Carson was to be 
one of their party; but, of course, she made no 
remark, and so their plans were carried out, re¬ 
gardless of the change. 

Florence had a small part in the Farce, but 
she finished in time to come u out front ” for 
the last act. Ted’s smiling greeting hinted of 
relief, as well as pleasure. It was evident that 
their little party was not the unified group it 
would have been, had Robert been one of them. 

At the Prom, Florence saw little of Betty and 
Charles after the mutual exchange of dances. It 
could not be denied that their attempt to make a 
“ party ” of the week-end had been a sad failure, 
yet neither girl could have denied that she had 
had a good time. Their escorts saw to that. 

When Florence looked back to it later, she 


BEAUX! 


2 77 

could not help reflecting that, from that week¬ 
end, dated a sudden widening of the rift that 
had developed in her friendship with the Arclifts. 
There was no definite word said, not even a sign 
of coldness, hut the rift was there. She tried 
to assure herself that it was entirely due to 
Betty’s absence and Robert’s dependence on her, 
but she was not satisfied with this explanation. 
There was something lacking in Betty’s letters, 
now. Somehow Florence felt that she was grad¬ 
ually losing two very dear friends, and the 
thought frightened her. 

“ No fault of mine, either,” she fretted. “ Why 
should I give up either the Carsons or the Ar¬ 
clifts, just because they refuse to mix?” 

Days flew by, Florence becoming more and 
more absorbed in affairs that took her away from 
Berkeley into a world of society debs, artists, 
musicians, and men of affairs. Her name began 
to appear in Mrs. Carson’s guest lists, along with 
a few others of the Berkeley younger set. More 
than once she proudly officiated at teas and buffet 
suppers, still finding a childish pleasure in the 
deference accorded her as u quite an intimate 
friend of the Carsons.” 

She was overwhelmed with pleasure when 


278 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

Viola, in a sweetly intimate little note, asked her 
to be one of the eight bridesmaids at her wedding. 

“ I thought of having a very simple one,” she 
said, “ but Louis is such a lover of beauty and 
pageantry, he will like an elaborate wedding, as 
much as I.” 

Florence never forgot that rosy experience, the 
days of planning and rushing about, the privi¬ 
lege of seeing Viola’s elaborate gifts and ever- 
increasing trousseau, the hurried trip south, fol¬ 
lowed by long hours at the dressmaker’s, the 
cloud of delicate blue tulle and lace which was 
gradually molded into a u perfectly heavenly ” 
dress for her,—and finally, the great day itself. 

She could hardly have been more excited if it 
had been her own wedding. The first peal of the 
great cathedral organ sent an ecstatic thrill 
through her as she walked forward, one of the 
colorful human bouquet to precede the bride. 
She took her place in the line of attendants and 
glanced at Louis, as Viola came up. His radiant 
happiness was as clearly written on his face as 
was hers. Florence’s thoughts became tumbled 
and incoherent as the ceremony progressed. 
How strange that she had not observed how much 
they cared for each other! What a lovely pic- 


BEAUX! 


279 

ture they made together, just the two. Was ever 
bride so exquisite as Viola? 

There was a stir. The ceremony had ended. 
Louis and Viola were turning to walk back—man 
and wife. The ushers stepped up. As Florence 
took Ted’s proffered arm, she glanced up to see 
him studying her smilingly, and she hastily 
looked away. 

What an elaborate and merry feast that wed¬ 
ding breakfast was! Delicately tinted organdie 
table-cloths, profusion of flowers, and dainty 
food disguised as petals, rings, and bells! Viola’s 
going away, amid a veritable storm of rice! 
Florence caught the bouquet. 

“ I wanted you to,” Viola whispered, braving 
another storm of rice to give her a farewell kiss. 
“ Good-by, dear. Be good to Ted, while I’m 
gone.” 

The din and merriment and showering rice 
went on, all unheeded by Florence, as Viola and 
Louis stepped into their limousine and sped 
away. Viola’s words had pleased her, and sud¬ 
denly left her cold. Somehow her own response 
to the affection of the Carsons did not satisfy her. 

“ Miss her already? ” a voice behind her re¬ 
called her to her surroundings. “ But you’ll see 


280 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

her often,” Ted added reassuringly. “ They’re 
dancing in the Blue Boom. Don’t you want to 
come in? ” 

Florence clutched Viola’s bridal bouquet spas¬ 
modically. Ted glanced at it, and looked into 
her eyes smiling. 

“I don’t care to dance, Ted. Please excuse 
me.” 

“ Oh, I say! I’m awfully glad to see you two 
so fond of each other, but Flo, this isn’t Viola’s 
funeral, you know.” 

His voice was boyishly pleading. He took the 
prophetic bouquet from her and laid it on a table, 
and Florence waltzed into the room with him, 
suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that 
Ted Carson’s future regard for her would depend 
on her own acts and words. For a chaotic mo¬ 
ment she hesitated, and then, smiling imper¬ 
sonally, she began to chatter glibly of college 
fun and frolic. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


SENIOR DAYS 

Betty came back to Berkeley for her Senior 
year, and things gradually became normal again 
for her and Florence. She began to take the go¬ 
ings and comings of Ted Carson quite for 
granted. When the usual “foursome” got to¬ 
gether for a party or picnic, it was always Flor¬ 
ence who instigated it, never Betty. Robert was 
seldom in Berkeley but, when he was, he found 
both his sisterly playmates ready to welcome him. 

Almost immediately after graduation, Robert 
had gone to the canyons and deserts of Xew 
Mexico with a party of archeologists who shared 
his enthusiasm for reconstructing the ancient 
civilization of America. He wrote long, interest¬ 
ing letters about his days on the trail and in 
camp, and, when he returned, at various inter¬ 
vals, he found Florence quite as eager to listen 
to his tales as to those of Ted Carson. 

“ You’d love this sort of thing, Flo,” he told 
her once. “Digging up tangible history, so to 
speak; and you never know what wonderful dis¬ 
covery is going to be uncovered next. Why, just 

281 


282 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


the other day we came upon a council-chamber 
with all its ancient rituals.” 

“ It must be fascinating. Why can’t girls do 
interesting things like that? ” 

“ They do. There are three women in our ex¬ 
pedition now; the secretary and the recorder are 
both women, and the superintendent’s wife goes 
on all his excursions with him.” 

Often, when he sat dreaming beside the camp¬ 
fire, Kobert thought of Florence’s face as he had 
seen it that day, glowing with a mixture of en¬ 
thusiasm and something deeper. But he still felt 
vaguely hopeless, when he contrasted the life he 
could offer Florence with the luxury and social 
position that Ted Carson might give her. 

“ What right have I to stand in her way, any¬ 
how? ” he often thought. “ Only, she is the 
dandiest pal, more understanding than Betty, 
even.” And as Betty had also done, he fell to 
ruminating dismally on what life without Flor¬ 
ence would be; for, if Florence should become a 
Carson, their paths must necessarily diverge, 
whether or not she herself were willing. 

Betty continued to philosophize as ruefully, 
and was more tenderly affectionate, than ever, as 
one is inclined to be, when the parting of the 


SENIOR DAYS 


283 

ways approaches. Florence sensed this, but she 
attributed it entirely to the natural regret of a 
Senior who sees her college days drawing to a 
close. 

“ I have something to tell you. You’d better 
come along,” Betty whispered, one evening, when 
Florence protested that it was too cloudy to do 
laboratory work at the observatory. 

“ Can’t you tell me here, just as well? ” asked 
Florence absently, drawing aside the curtain to 
look up at the overcast sky. “Look, Betty; 
there’s only one wee star shining, and that’ll be 
hidden in a minute.” 

“ Come for a walk, then. No quiet hours to¬ 
night; we can’t talk here without somebody’s 
bursting in on us.” 

“ Goodness, is it as serious as all that? ” Flor¬ 
ence laughed, peering through the dark at Betty’s 
face. “ All right. I’ll take my bundle of Sopho¬ 
more ‘ psych ’ papers and grade them while we’re 
waiting for Saturn and the other celestial guests 
to make their appearance. It may clear up.” 

Betty was very quiet as they left the house and 
joined the scattered groups of students who were 
campus-bound. Florence chattered glibly, insist¬ 
ing on gazing skyward despite threatening curb- 



284 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

stones and Betty’s attempt to bring ber attention 
earthward. 

“ It’s really a glorious night though, isn’t it? ” 
she sighed. “ See the moon just peeping over 
the edge of that silver cloud-bank, and look, 
Betty,—don’t those palms make a perfect tropical 
silhouette? But what was it you wanted to tell 
me? ” she asked finally. 

Betty slowed her step and looked toward her 
with a self-conscious little smile. “ Haven’t you 
the least idea, Flo? Not the very least? ” 

Florence stopped short and looked into her 
face, illumined by the fitful moonlight, but by 
something else, too, a glow w T hich came from 
within. 

“ Betty! ” A long silence, and then,“ You are 
engaged to Charles! ” 

“ Of course! Kiss me, Flo. You’re the only 

✓ 

one besides Had and Mother who knows. I’m not 
going to announce it for a while yet.” 

Florence administered a hug that would have 
done credit to the California Bear, and followed 
her embrace with a deluge of eager questions. 
How long had she been engaged? When was 
she to be married? Was it to be a “big” wed¬ 
ding, or just a simple one? 


SENIOR DAYS 


285 

“I’ve been engaged a week,” began Betty 
methodically. “ We’re to be married next fall 
some time. I don’t know about the wedding, we 
haven’t made any definite plans yet, except that 
you’re to be maid-of-honor, unless-” 

“ Unless what? ” 

“Unless you’ve forsaken us for some far-off 
corner of the earth,” Betty answered signifi¬ 
cantly. 

“ Oh, but I sha’n’t. I think I’m going to stay 
right here in Berkeley and work for a Master’s 
degree in History.” Florence spoke steadily, but 
she did not convince Betty. It was obvious that, 
at that particular moment, she was thinking of 
something quite different from a Master’s degree 
in History. Betty thought she knew just what, 
and sighed. There was a shadow in her glow of 
happiness. 

Their arrival at the observatory cut short fur¬ 
ther conversation, but, after a half-hour of un¬ 
satisfactory glimpses of the heavens, they left 
the building and strolled back across the campus, 
forgetting all things save the absorbing topic of 
the moment. Once or twice Betty deliberately 
changed the subject and gave a hint of her 
curiosity concerning Florence. In reply she got 



a86 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


only a dreamy glance, and a wistful smile that 
confirmed her suspicions. Florence was not en¬ 
gaged, no,—but she would be before long. Betty, 
in her newly acquired wisdom, was quite certain 
that she knew Florence’s mind better than the 
girl herself did. Yes, Florence was going 
through a pleasant, but disquieting, stage of in¬ 
decision. For Betty, there was no uncertainty 
about it. She looked at Florence’s dreamy face 
and nodded her dark head wisely. Ah yes, she 
knew! 

Senior year flew by, and still Florence confided 
nothing to Betty. There were u linen showers ” 
and “ kitchen showers ” and other engagement 
parties for Betty. Plans for the wedding began 
to take definite shape, Florence insisting that “ no 
matter what happened,” she would be present on 
the great occasion. It was that little u no mat¬ 
ter what happened” that troubled Betty. She 
frowned and worried, unobtrusively watching 
Ted Carson whenever she had the opportunity, 
only to renew her conclusion that Ted Carson 
was very fond of Florence, and that Florence 
was very fond of him, though she had not ad¬ 
mitted that fact, even to herself, yet. Florence 
was not going to allow him to become serious 


SENIOR DAYS 



until she was quite sure of herself. That seemed 
obvious to Betty. Somehow, she could not bring 
herself to the point of unmitigated gladness over 
the prospect of Florence’s marrying Ted Carson. 

“ It’s selfishness, pure selfishness! ” she re¬ 
buked herself, and then began to wonder if it 
were, if—somewhere in her thoughts, an anxiety 
for Florence’s happiness were not contending for 
supremacy. 

“ Betty, where are you going to live after 
you’re married? ” Florence queried, as they sat 
in their room sorting notes and putting their 
binders in order for the final examination period. 

“ Why, at Charles’ ranch, of course! ” Betty 
answered, in some surprise. “ I’m just dying to 
get my hands on the place,” she added, enthu¬ 
siastically. “ I’m going to show Charles that he 
can’t monopolize those pet trees of his.” 

“ I’m glad it’s a fruit ranch, Betty. I’d hate . 
to think of you as tending cows and pigs, and 
squawky old chickens.” 

“Poetic old dear,” Betty laughed. “You’d 
rather visualize me among pink and white blos¬ 
soms, or tending prize rose-bushes, wouldn’t you? 
Well, I won’t disillusion you.” 

“ Oh, I know that fruit ranching isn’t all 


288 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


poetry and orange blossoms, but it’s better than 
pigs and chickens.” 

“ I told you you’d lose interest in my pets, liv¬ 
ing in an atmosphere of antique jewelry, and 
fruit salad served on crushed ice.” 

Florence flashed her a keen, inquiring glance. 
“ What a combination—antique jewelry, and 
fruit salad! But that isn’t fair, Betty. You 
know very well that I never did like pigs, or any 
of their relatives. And, as for the fruit salad 
atmosphere, as you call it, I can manage very 
well without it.” 

“ Of course,” Betty answered pensively. “We 
can all do without luxuries, when we have to, but 
you won’t have to. You’ll be surrounded with 
beautiful things all your life, and you ought to 
be. You love them, and can do justice to them.” 

Her eyes were on her work, and so she did not 
notice the expression on Florence’s face. It was 
some time before she realized that her tongue had 
betrayed her secret conclusions. She looked up. 
Florence was smiling, as though amused, but her 
brow was creased by a faint frown of vexation. 

“ She’s wondering how I knew,” Betty decided, 
“ and, even now, she won’t tell me. I’m not to 
know until she is ready to tell everybody. Oh, 


SENIOR DAYS 


289 

you may smile away, sly little Flo. You think 
I don’t know.” Her thoughts went spinning on 
while they worked in silence. 

A sudden burst of music from the fraternity 
house next door, competition from a piano down¬ 
stairs, and a squeaky phonograph across the 
street, reminded the girls that it was Friday 
night, and that Berkeley is not particularly 
studious on Friday nights. 

“ We almost forgot the gym rally! ” exclaimed 
Florence, jumping up excitedly. “ Come on, we 
mustn’t miss it. It may be a long, long time 
before we’ll have a chance to get into a U. C. gym 
suit again.” 

“ Yes, and Professor Burr is going to show us 
some tumbling stunts and Indian club drills,” 
added Betty, enthusiastically. 

They pushed aside their books and hurried 
out, thoughts of the future temporarily forgotten 
in behalf of "the gym rally, that jolly, informal 
last meeting of Physical Education enthusiasts 
like Florence and Betty. For an hour, their 
thoughts and physical selves were entirely oc¬ 
cupied with relay races, mock basket-ball, and 
acrobatics. Laughing and glowing with fun and 
exercise, they, at last, left the gymnasium and 


2 9 o HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

crossed the dark campus toward the Chapter 
House. 

Once in their own room, their animated babble 
gradually subsided. The inevitable thought that 
the rally marked “ the beginning of the end ” 
began to creep into their consciousness, try as 
they would to evade it. Florence looked about 
the cheery room, every nook of which had become 
dear from years of association. Next fall, she 
and Betty would be gone. Some one else would 
take possession of the room that had been theirs 
for so long. It didn’t seem right. This was 
their room; how could it ever belong to any one 
else? As she snapped out the light and raised 
the curtain, she gazed up at the dark-blue, star- 
clustered sky, and began to hum the song of the 
California Bear. 

“ 4 Oh, have you seen the heavens blue 

Where just seven stars are shining through? 
Right overhead a jovial crew, 

They’re joining hands to make the bear/ 

Look, Betty, there he is, shining as bravely as 
ever.” 

Betty strolled over to put an arm about her, 
and they stood there in the dark, silently gaz- 


SENIOR DAYS 


291 

ing up at the celestial symbol of their Alma 
Mater. 

“ * Our sturdy Golden Bear is watching from 
the skies/ ” she sang softly. 

“ Just think / 7 Florence interrupted, “no mat¬ 
ter where we may be, in the years to come, we 
can always look up and see him, our California 
Bear.” 

“ Yes, no matter where we may be,” Betty an¬ 
swered. “ Then you don’t plan on coming back 
for your M. A»? ” 

Florence shrugged impatiently. “ I said 4 in 
the years to come.’ Betty, you’re hopelessly un- 
poetic, bringing me back to earth with such a 
jolt. I don’t see how you can look up at a sky 
like that, and think of such prosaic things as 
Master’s degrees.” 

Betty was a little hurt by this reply. “ Well, 
if you won’t tell me, you won’t,” was her un¬ 
voiced thought, “but I should think you might 
tell me, even if you do think you’re going to sur¬ 
prise us all with an announcement at the Senior 
Banquet.” 

“ Did I tell you that Rob had decided to come 
for the Senior Ball? ” she said aloud. 

“No, but he told me himself, Precious. He 


292 


HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 


couldn’t go and disappoint us, when we’ve 
planned it this way ever since we were Sopho¬ 
mores.” 

“ No, but ‘ circumstances sometimes alter 
cases.’ ” 

“ True, though not particularly original,” 
Florence responded calmly. “ Did you ever hear 
that ‘ Love is blind ’ ? ” she ended w T ith a mis¬ 
chievous laugh as she ran out, leaving her room¬ 
mate more mystified than ever. 


CHAPTER XXV 


CAP AND GOWN 

“ It is already proven tliat this ancient civiliza¬ 
tion antedates the pyramids and sphinx of Egypt, 
and the discoveries of the future will no doubt 
open the pages of an ancient American lore that 
will silence Old World scoffers, who claim that 
America’s history is all in the future.” 

With this sentence, Florence finished her last 
examination, and ended her career as an under¬ 
graduate. Something of this realization pene¬ 
trated her consciousness, and tempered the relief 
with which she capped her pen and closed her 
“ blue-book.” She glanced at the clock. It was 
fifteen minutes before the close of the three-hour 
examination period. A sudden reluctance to put 
an end to her academic life tempted her to dally. 
She opened her blue-book again, and carefully 
reread her answers, adding a little here and 
there, and making minor changes. The clock 
struck, just as she began to read her last sen¬ 
tence. 

“ The end! ” she gasped. 

293 


294 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

It was the end of her Senior year! The last 
sentence she had written held a prophecy for the 
future. She wondered about her own future, 
hoped that in that vague prophecy there would 
be something personally hers, some work to do, 
perhaps the privilege of helping to record a his¬ 
tory, yet unwritten. 

She was still pensive as she entered the chap¬ 
ter house, where Betty and the other Seniors 
were discussing the momentous question of 
“ what to wear ” at the various festivities of 
Senior week. 

“ Ah’m goin’ t’make mah white spoht dress do 
for aivrything except the Banquet and the Ball,” 
drawled Margaret Montague. “ It’ll be right to 
wear under mah cap V gown at the Baccalau¬ 
reate, and Commencement, and it’s just the thing 
for the Pilgrimage.” 

u Sensible Marg,” Miriam Byrne approved. 
“ Personally, I think it’s a shame that our class 
color is red. A green bow would set me off so 
much better, and—red, against my hair! It’s a 
positive crime.” 

“ But you wear the bow on your parasol, silly,” 
remarked Marceil, unsympathetically. “ The red 
bow will be a safe distance from your fiery head.” 


CAP AND GOWN 


2 95 

“ Just the same, a green bow would be pret¬ 
tier,” pouted Miriam. 

“ You mi-i-ight wait a year to graduate,” ad¬ 
vised Margaret. “ The Juniors’ color is green,” 
and Miriam was silenced. 

“What are you planning to wear, Flo?” 
queried Betty. 

“I believe in Margaret’s plan. Two dresses 
are really enough. My white tailored crepe will 
do for Baccalaureate, Pilgrimage, and Com¬ 
mencement; and my shell-pink taffeta for the 
Banquet and Ball.” 

“ But what about Extravaganza, and the Presi¬ 
dent’s tea? ” 

“We’re all in Extravaganza, aren’t we? 
Betty’s the Jester, and Miriam is the Fire-dancer, 
and Marceil and I are California poppies.” 

“ The idea of importing California poppies 
from Boston! ” scoffed Margaret. “ Ah guess 
you all are in the Extravaganza, ’ceptin’ me. 
Ah spoilt mah chainces when Ah cracked that 
B flat in the tryouts,” she added comically. 

“Well, did we decide about the tea?” some 
one asked, above the laughter. 

“ Same as any other tea,” Betty suggested. 
“Hats, dressy suits, and white gloves, with a 


296 HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 

corsage, if you like; well be stopping just the 
tiniest minute, anyway. By the way, Flo, you 
promised to help me with the hem of my even¬ 
ing gown. Well have to hurry, if Fm to get to 
the Banquet in that dress.” 

Betty seemed unduly excited about the Senior 
Women’s Banquet. She was nervous and fidgety 
while the almost completed gown was being tried 
on. 

“ Heavens! Does the prospect of announcing 
your engagement affect you so terribly? ” queried 
Florence, after the sixth attempt to adjust the 
hem, while Betty danced and pivoted about. 

Betty was instantly still. “ Oh, no. There 
won’t be any excitement in that. Most every¬ 
body knows about it already. I rather wish I 
hadn’t told any one, but just kept my little secret 
until the Banquet. I imagine that more than 
one girl has done that.” 

“Yes, there are always some unexpected an¬ 
nouncements at the Banquet,” Florence replied, 
with tantalizing calmness. Betty was disap¬ 
pointed. 

The Senior Women’s Banquet proved to be a 
happy affair, notwithstanding the shadow of 
parting that hung over it. Toast-mistress and 


CAP AND GOWN 


297 

speakers all added their share of humor to the 
anecdotes of the past and the prophecies for the 
future. Each course was enlivened by happy 
reminiscences, and by California songs. Just 
before dessert, there was a sudden, expectant 
hush. A smile lighted every face as a tiny girl 
made her appearance. She was draped in a long 
white robe with ermine train, decked with hearts. 
Her crown was a huge engagement ring. 

“ The Queen of Hearts has a token for each of 
you,” began the toast-mistress, “ her only request 
is that you each choose appropriately.” 

The little Queen started around the long table, 
laughing with the rest as one after another 
picked from her basket a symbolic thimble. 
Betty was the first to choose a ring, and as she 
rose amid applause and flower petals to “tell 
his name,” a volley of questions shot back and 
forth along the table. Betty’s announcement 
seemed to have been the signal, and the shower 
of petals, cheers, and questions continued inter¬ 
mittently, all around the table. 

“ There must be a hundred! ” exclaimed 
Betty’s left-hand neighbor. 

But Betty’s attention was on the basket, now 
on the other side of the table, approaching Flor- 


298 HAIL, CALIFORNIA! 

ence. Florence’s hand was dipping into it. Betty 
was not the only one who waited, expectantly. 
The hand came up, closed. She caught Betty’s 
too-eager glance, and laughed mischievously, 
raising her fingers slowly to reveal—a thimble! 
The basket passed on, the girl next to Florence 
chose a ring, and the attention of every one but 
Betty was diverted. She sank back, studying 
Florence’s face incredulously, until a song to the 
engaged girls interrupted her puzzled revery. 
The merriment at last gave way to the hymn¬ 
like notes of “ All Hail, Blue and Gold,” and the 
Senior Banquet was ended. 

“ You funny dear,” was Florence’s greeting, 
when the two girls were alone in the back seat 
of Miriam’s sedan. “ You blind little—it must be 
because you’re in love.” She seemed hugely 
amused, but was irresistibly affectionate. 

“What do you mean, Flo?” begged the puz¬ 
zled Betty. “ Then, you are engaged? ” 

“ N-not quite, I haven’t said 6 yes,’ yet, 
but-” 

“But you’re going to?” 

“Yes. Oh, you precious, blind Betty! I love 
you almost as much as Rob! ” 

“ As Rob!!” 





CAP AND GOWN 


299 


“ Yes. I know you thought it was Ted, and I 
just couldn’t resist the temptation to tease you. 
You’ll forgive me, won’t you? You really de¬ 
served to be teased. Every time I thought of 
Rob, you insisted on talking about Ted, and when 
we made plans for the future, you just couldn’t 
see anything but your own jumpity conclusions. 
Really, Betsey, you vexed me, sometimes.” 

“But,.why didn’t you tell me? How should 
I know that it was Rob, all this time? ” 

“ He made me promise, Betty, that I wouldn’t 
tell you, unless I decided to say ‘ yes.’ ” Flor¬ 
ence’s happy smile was irresistible, and Betty 
leaned over to wish her happiness in her own 
impulsive way. 

“ It’s just too good to be true,” she exulted. 
“ It’s what I’ve hoped for. Flo dear, neither you 
nor Rob can be any happier than I about it. 
Does Ted know? ” 

“ Hot about Rob, but I told him, long ago, that 
we could never be any more than friends. I 
do like Ted, and admire him greatly, but that 
isn’t—love. I knew who it was I loved, when 
Rob went away.” 

The Extravaganza, like many another dramatic 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


3 00 

event in which Florence had taken part, passed 
like a colorful dream, almost before she could 
realize that the weeks of rehearsal were over. 
With the laying aside of her gay poppy costume, 
she seemed to end, too, the period of revelry, 
and to settle down to the more formal events of 
Commencement Week. On the morrow, she and 
her classmates would don cap and gown, and 
assemble in the Greek Theatre to hear the Bac¬ 
calaureate Sermon. 

It was a benediction and a farewell. In all the 
throng of graduates, there was not a face which 
did not show a response to the emotion of the 
occasion. There was a suspicious moisture in 
more than one pair of eyes. 

Thoughts of farewell were even more pro¬ 
nounced on the following day, when Senior men 
and girls arrayed themselves in white, in honor 
of the formal leave-taking. At ten o'clock, that 
sunny morning, the long white procession started 
across the byways of the campus, which this 
group would never tread again, as undergrad¬ 
uates. The only bit of color in the long line was 
the red of the bright bows atop the parasols car¬ 
ried by the girls. 

One after another, the favorite haunts and 



CAP AND GOWN 


301 


buildings of the campus were touched and bidden 
farewell. There was no attempt to hide the fact 
that now, at last, the dear associations of col¬ 
lege life were ending. It was farewell; as a 
beloved teacher or classmate came down the 
steps of each building to say the parting words, 
there was a solemn silence throughout the whole 
great crowd. 

“Each time we stopped, I thought that this 
was the spot I hated most to leave,” breathed 
Florence, as, the Pilgrimage over, they wandered 
down College Avenue toward home. “ The li¬ 
brary, Wheeler Hall, Faculty Glade, the gym, 
the groves, and the Greek Theatre,—don’t you 
love them all? ” 

“ Yes, our campus is beautiful ,”—which meant 
a great deal, coming from Betty. “We must 
stop being sentimental now, Flo,” she added 
characteristically. “ You have only an hour to 
eat lunch and get to the station to meet your 
home-folks.” 

Greeting and entertaining the “ home-folks ” 
was one of the joys of Commencement Week. 
How proud and happy they all were to stroll 
about the campus which was theirs as well as 


302 


HAIL , CALIFORNIA! 


Florence’s, to recall anecdotes and experiences 
of their own college days, to hear all she had to 
tell of the last wonderful year. And how com¬ 
fortable it was to have Mother understand so 
well when Florence stole her away, only to find 
that she had already guessed the secret next her 
heart. 

“ I knew you would choose right, dear,” she 
told her lovingly, “ and long ago, I began to hope 
it might be Rob.” 

Florence was very quiet while she dressed for 
the Ball that night, but her eyes sparkled with 
unusual brightness, and her cheeks were suffused 
with a delicate flush that was vastly becoming. 
The bell rang. 

“ It’s his same old ring! ” laughed Betty, as 
she started toward the door, and stopped. “ You 
go, Flo.” 

“No—no, he’s your brother,—cousin,” Flor¬ 
ence protested nervously. “ Besides, I’m not 
ready.” 

Betty smiled mischievously and bestowed a 
kiss on the flushed cheek as she hurried out. 
Florence patted and poked her already-perfect 
hair, pulled her dress, and then stood for a long 


CAP AND GOWN 


3°3 


time contemplating the string of crystals that 
lay against her dress like dew-drops on a rose- 
petal. 

“ How silly you are! ” she told the girl in the 
mirror, and resolutely turned toward the stairs. 
With an effort at indifference, she hummed a gay 
tune as she descended. Robert stood in the hall, 
talking with Betty and two of the other girls. 
Florence was glad. She gave him her hand, and 
smiled up at him frankly. 

“You’re browner than ever,” she laughed. 
“ You’ll look like one of those desert Indians, 
pretty soon.” 

If it had been Louis or Ted, the response 
might have been, “ And you are fairer than ever.” 
But it was Rob. 

“ Gosh, but I’m glad to see you again! ” was 
his greeting. 

Charles’ arrival cut short Rob’s welcome, and, 
in a few moments, the four sped away toward 
the Senior Ball, just as they had planned to, 
long ago. 

The evening passed like another beautiful 
dream, a vision of fresh young faces, lovely 
gowns, and perfect music. Every one seemed to 
radiate happiness and smiles. Thoughts might 


304 


HAIL > CALIFORNIA! 


drift to anticipations of the future, but not to 
the good-bys that must be said. To-night was 
to-night. 

Rob found no moment to be alone with Flor¬ 
ence that evening, and, when he called for her 
the next morning, she was arrayed in cap and 
gown, ready to take her place in the long line of 
graduates. He frowned with impatience, but, as 
he proudly escorted her to the campus that Com¬ 
mencement Hay, the chimes burst forth as if in 
happy omen. 

“ There’s a long, long trail a-winding into the 
land of my dreams,” they played. He looked 
down at Florence, and found his answer in her 
smile. 

“ Only tell me that you are sure, Flo,” he 
begged, very low, for there were crowds all about 
them. “ Are you sure you can be happy poking 
among dusty ruins in the desert with me? ” 

u Quite sure, Rob,” she said, as she took her 
place in line. 

He could only press her hand and smile, but 
he was satisfied. 


THE END 










0 












OCT 17 1928 


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